


It Won't End Well

by rackwire



Series: GTA/Trevor Fics [1]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alluded Suicide, Attempted Murder, Comfort, Cuddling, Extremely Slight AU, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, Like a good 1/3 of the time, Lots of it, Men Crying, Nothing crazy tho, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Pre-Option A/B/C, References to Abuse, References to Depression, References to Sexual Assault, Sad Trevor, Slight References to Nazism, Trevor bein' a creep, Trevor finally gets someone to hold him, Ya boy Trevor bein' a sweetheart, maybe smut later idk, sometimes anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rackwire/pseuds/rackwire
Summary: After living across from him for nearly half a year, Misty gets curious about her noisy neighbor... curious meaning she sneaks onto his porch in the middle of the night when he's having a breakdown, possibly changing both of their lives forever.





	1. It Won't End Well

**Author's Note:**

> To new readers: this fic began as a one-shot, so I apologize if the first chapter is dramatically different compared to those that follow! Additional info: I've surveyed the area, and there doesn't appear to be any trailers in Trevor's neighborhood that actually offer the visual advantage described- I hate to pull this card, but it's fiction lol pls work with me. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

_Always_ with the fucking screaming.

Screaming, bickering, the occasional bout of gunfire, and a seemingly neverending stream of obscenities. I woke up to it most, if not every morning and fell asleep to it most, if not every night. Music would only muffle it, and blankets barely accomplished that much. The man was my personal alarm clock, that's for sure... and also some kind of sick lullaby. When I'd moved into this trailer nearly half a year ago, he had been away- disappeared to the city, I heard. It wasn't necessarily an unwelcome sight to see a garnet red deathtrap of a Canis pull up into the neighboring yard one morning as I left for work but I certainly had no plans on making friends with my new neighbor. 

Sandy Shores was a town like no other- if you could really call it that. It sorta felt like a desolate area, a blip on a map with no official title other than its name-- a place that the sane, clean, and/or financially stable avoided at all costs. Having been a resident for just under six months, I can't say I could blame them. In Sandy Shores, you knew your neighbors only from the drifting conversation carried over by the wind from one trailer or decrepit building to the next-- be it a lover's quarrel, a drug deal, or a negotiation of some other suspicious undertone, you could hear _everything_ the neighborhood had to offer from the comfort of your very own front porch. Trevor Philips' trailer was its own entity in that regard. 

There was always _something_ going down in or around that dingy old mobile home; from the rumors I'd heard, I sometimes wondered how something that appeared so dilapidated was still standing after so many years of... well, neglect. Some nights, standing out on my front porch, I'd watch as his rusted truck would pull up and he'd get out; he never appeared threatening to me until one night that he'd actually _caught me_ looking. I could just barely make him out until he stepped into the light, glaring up at me with a dangerous gaze. He was dressed in a charcoal tank top and black cargo pants, covered in what I could only imagine was dirt and blood in varying stages of drying. He smirked as I met his crazed brown-eyed stare with my own fearful one. "Ain't it a bit late for a little lady such as yourself to be standin' around in the dark?" he said to me, his voice sickeningly sweet- filled to the brim with faux concern. He continued, " 'Never know who or what's out there watchin', ya know?" 

I nodded vigorously, backing up until I felt the cool glass of my screen door against my back. I entered my home quickly, slamming the door behind me as I heard him laughing loudly from outside. I could have sworn I heard another voice mumble something along the lines of "C'mon, T, we got shit to do," before I bolted my front door and proceeded to do my best in forgetting the encounter.

I didn't sleep that night.

 

The rare nights during which he was away from home, I almost found it hard to fall asleep without the constant sounds of banter and conflict coming from his place... However, provided what I knew about Mr. Philips, there was only one thing that worried me more than the sounds of chaos and distress coming from that hellhole. Silence; knowing that he was out and on the prowl, doing whatever it was that he _did_ , whatever it was that brought him home with bullet wounds and caked in blood that probably didn't belong to him. 

The accumulated stories and rumors I'd heard ranged from rather far-fetched to juuust believable enough to make it difficult for me to sleep at night. I worked random hours at a nearby liquor store and I can't say I was home often enough to bump into him by happenstance (other than the one semi-frightening encounter on my front porch), and for that, I was grateful. I'd heard that he was everything from an arms dealer to a cannibal, from a meth addict with anger issues to a demon walking the Earth. I'd heard that he was responsible for the meth lab explosion that took place out on the O'Neill property some time ago and that he was behind all those disappearances up in the Chiliad Mountain area. I wasn't sure exactly how much of it was true, but assuming that any of it was-- it would satiate my nerves to know that he was raising hell in the comfort of his own home rather than out and about in Blaine County doing god knows what... Especially being in such close proximity to me.

It was unnerving, sleeping only yards away from someone who seemed so dangerous.

However, there were some nights... that if I woke up dead in the middle of the night after having fought my way to slumber, it wasn't the screaming and nonsense that I heard. 

It was crying.

The unmistakable sounds of emotional turmoil- I knew them quite well from experience, myself. I could hear it so clearly, seeping through the thin walls of my mobile home, that I often wondered if it were just as obvious when I was having a moment. On a typical night of this occasion, I'd pull myself from my bed and tiptoe to the double-paned window at the opposite end of my single-wide and gaze out into the night, searching for signs of life within the trailer across from me. He tended to make his presence known in only a handful of ways. His door would be open an inch or two sometimes, allowing something of a shadow to dance across the front porch, or he'd be sprawled out on the rickety bench that sat just to the left of the threshold with a beer or pipe loose in his grip. He always left himself so vulnerable, it was almost as if he were inviting trouble or inviting someone to approach-- but no one ever did. Why would they? He's a psychopath. His presence radiated a dangerous energy that most anyone, surely, could pick up on. 

I can’t say for sure if he ever really meant for his cries to be heard. To me, they were nearly impossible to ignore. And so when I was awoken one Sunday night by the sounds of heart-wrenching sobs ripping through a man’s chest, I felt compelled to tear myself from my sheets and get a closer look at the situation, stepping onto my porch in the early desert morning.

The sun hadn't come up yet, but I estimated it to be around 4 or 5 in the morning. There was barely enough light cast by the dying neon signs of the nearby liquor store to cast a dim glow into Trevor's yard, illuminating the front of his home just enough to allow me something of a view. He, of course, was nowhere to be seen- however, his door had been left ajar, _moreso_ than usual. Curiosity got the better of me and before I knew it, I had stepped off of my porch and was peering over my fence to get a better look.

His cries came and go, the only constant sound being that of glass shattering and the dull thud of objects hitting the floor or walls of the trailer. Shadows danced in the light cast by his open door upon the wooden panels of his porch, offering me a very poor animation to illustrate what was possibly going on within the confines of his humble abode. _He seems so untouchable in the daylight_ , I thought, _what could possibly cause him this much distress?_

Of course, I had to investigate further- I don't know if I was curious or simply worried for his wellbeing at this point. As I got closer to his yard, I heard him muttering to himself, though I only caught the tail end of his depressing expletives. 

"-nobody _ever_ wants to fuckin' stay!"

"-can't believe I ever trusted that fat piece of shit-"

"-why won't anyone hold me? I just _don't understand_ -"

 _Hold him?_ Disregarding his statements, for the most part, I realized that I was fastly approaching the steps to his trailer at this point. _What the fuck are you doing? You're in your fucking nightgown, for Christ's sake-_ and I was. It was modest enough, however- plain black cotton with wide straps. It hugged me well enough to pass as a dress, although my lack of a bra was embarrassingly noticeable. I shrugged it off (the thought, not the nightgown) and began to quietly advance up the steps of Trevor's home. I wasn't sure what I was doing, honestly. I don't think I really had any initial intention of entering, but once I had reached the top step and saw him standing shirtless just in front of his door- saw the pistol in his hand and the way he was running his fingers over the metal, examining it absent-mindedly with a flushed face that told a thousand different tales, I couldn't stop myself from intervening. 

"WAIT!" I shouted, forgetting subtlety and the importance thereof. I thrust myself into his home, knocking the weapon from his hands. He and I both watched as it skittered across the floor of his trailer, stopping once it had reached a leg of the tattered couch that sat against the wall. Trevor looked from the gun to me, back to the gun, and back to me once more. I was... Terrified. His face did not show anger, however. It was unreadable as he stared, unblinking, into my brown eyes that- I'm sure -were full of fear. I could see redness in his eyes indicating that he had, in fact, been crying, but whatever tears that may have lived there once were now gone. The only thing in his expression that I could immediately discern was the shock. Surprise. Confusion, even. 

I didn't wait for him to speak up. The industrial speed of my beating heart screamed at me to leave, to excuse myself, to _get the fuck away from him_ , so I muttered a quick, "I'm sorry, I should go," and turned on my heel to vacate the premises (and quite possibly the state), seconds after which I felt a strong hand reach out and grab me at my elbow. 

_Oh, shit._

I turned to face him, slowly. I was expecting to see anger burning in those catlike brown eyes, irritation, hatred even- but no. Instead, I saw something much rawer, much more heartbreaking. I saw tears forming in his eyes, bloodshot and irritated, as well as a pitiful frown plastered upon his scarred face. I felt as though I were looking into the eyes of the boy who had been beaten rather than the man who wore his battle scars. The fear inside of me took a nosedive in intensity as he half-whispered in a broken voice, "Please don't."

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't run. My heart, still beating fervently within the confines of my chest, begged me to break free from his grasp (which was surprisingly loose, almost to the point that it seemed like he was expecting me to leave) and crawl back into my bed, but I... couldn't. I chose to do something much more dangerous. I stayed.

"Okay," I whispered, part of me absolutely shocked at the words leaving my mouth. I closed the trailer door behind me gently, taking a step forward into his home. I felt him drop his hand from my arm, still staring at me with a confused frown. He eyed me up and down, from my tangled mess of brown hair to my bare feet pressed against the surprisingly cold faux tile of his "kitchen" floor. When he finally met my gaze, his expression was soft; he took a step away from me, reaching down and picking up the gun he'd been caressing just moments before. For a split second, I felt my heart jump into my throat; before I could formulate an escape plan, however, he chuckled to himself and held it dangerously close to my face, pulling the trigger in one swift motion- 

And a small flame formed at the barrel. I breathed out the largest breath of relief I think I'd ever had within my lungs, physically placing a hand on my chest in efforts to calm my racing heart. Trevor grinned in amusement and tossing the lighter to the side, he said, "Got it off some piece of shit trying to rob an old lady earlier."

I simply nodded to indicate my attention as I tried my best to gather what little courage I had within me. Luckily, Trevor didn't seem to mind my lack of words; he continued with his story. "Nothin' like a little fear to make a paper man crumble," he drawled, turning his back to me. "Or in that lucky bastard's case, a _real_ weapon. Right between the eyes,"

Suddenly, I found my voice. "You killed him?" I squeaked. I'm not sure why I was surprised- after all, this _was_ Trevor Philips... even if I had managed to uncover a sort of weakness in his rough exterior. Alas, he shook his head. "No, no," he went on, "didn't need to. He got the message." 

"Well, that's... reassuring," I muttered, finding it within myself to take a step forward as he approached his fridge with his back turned to me. I took this moment to examine him, for the first time really, since I'd found myself in such close quarters with him. He was muscular- surprisingly so. You don't really expect psychopathic meth heads to carry such attractive and toned figures but, well... Trevor was somethin' else. I looked over his body as he turned back to face me, this time with a beer in his hand. He didn't bother offering one to me, which was fine, instead opting to seat himself on the damn near threadbare sofa to the right of his refrigerator and look up at me expectantly. I stared back, trying to avoid eyeballing his shirtless chest- as nice as it was to look at.

"Need I ask why you found it necessary to come bargin' into my humble abode unannounced?" He smirked, taking a swig of his drink. I gulped, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Oh, I... I kinda heard--" He cut me off, waving a hand dismissively. "Ya know what? Don't worry about it," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to wipe away any implication of his man tears. I chuckled internally at the thought. Having gotten that awkward but necessary exchange semi-out of the way, I regained some amount of bravery and took a seat next to him on the worn sofa, making sure to put a decent amount of space between us. 

He didn't look at me, though. His gaze was fixed upon the floor, his beer nearly slipping from his loose grip as he zoned out- or so I thought. "You're the first person in... some time to ever come over here _willingly_ ," 

I started to laugh, but I quickly realized that there was no humor in his voice. _Oh._ He continued. " 'Seems like someone's always either wantin' something from me or just wantin' to get away from me," he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You know, I... I admit I can get a little... _intense_ at times. Some might even say scary!" He waved his hands wildly as he spoke, slinging his beer along with his frantic gestures. I winced, trying not to react to the droplets of semi-cold booze seeping into my nightgown.

"But I'm- I'm loveable! Hard exterior, soft interior shit, right? Right?" He turned to me suddenly, his eyes bearing fresh tears as he searched my face for some kind of expression. I tried my best to offer him a gentle smile, pushing my fear of him to the side momentarily as I reached out to rest a hand on his bicep. I felt him tense at my touch for a second before he let his half-empty beer drop to the floor and grab my hand, pulling me into him and crushing me to his chest. I gasped at his strength, wrapped around me as if he were afraid I may disappear in his very arms. The contact was intense and unexpected- frightening, even, but... _god, it felt good_. I responded to his touch almost instantly, basking in the warmth of a body so close to mine- it had been ages since I'd felt even a fraction of how wanted, how _needed_ I felt in that moment.

I wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling the muscles in his back relax slightly as if relieved by the lack of struggle I presented. I heard a pleased sigh skitter through his chest as he tucked one of his rough hands into my hair, not even fazed by the sleep-ridden tangled mess it had become. For a moment, I was scared he'd try to push things into dangerous territory when I felt his other hand slide alarmingly close to my backside- mostly scared because if he _were_ to try anything, at this point, _I'd let him_ -but he did no such thing. He simply rubbed my back slowly and affectionately, trembling ever so slightly. I realized, after a moment, that he was crying again. I let out a pitiful "aw" sound, cradling him closer to me and feeling his heart beating steadily in his chest. My heart, however, was still pounding- but my anxiety was on the decline as I began to register him as less of a danger. He could easily have switched his temperament and wrapped his hands around my throat in that moment, or reached for a _real_ weapon (as I'm sure he had plenty of), but he did not. He just sat there, holding me against his body as if the world would end if he let go. I melted into him easily, letting his presence soothe the wounds that years of loneliness had left on my heart.

His face was close enough to mine that I could smell the alcohol on his breath and hear him mutter gentle whispers, although I couldn't make many of them out. They seemed to be a mixture of apologies and vows to never let me- or whomever he thought I was -get away from him. If I hadn't felt so comfortable snuggled into his chest, I might have been a little frightened but there was no detectable aggression in his grip. Just... loneliness. Hurt. Emotions that I could not possibly understand coming from someone I'd had only one other run in with in my life. 

After several minutes of what I can only describe as intense cuddling, I felt him loosen his hold on me and start pulling away. Instinctively, having been rather enjoying the intimacy, I responded my tightening my own clutch around his middle which earned a saddened chuckle from him. "You don't wanna do that, baby," he whispered into my hair, sounding just as torn as I felt, "trust me, it won't end well." 

I surmised that his sentiment wasn't a threat to my physical wellbeing so much as it was a reminder to both himself and I. _He's Trevor Philips. He's dangerous._ And so, with reluctance, I let go; feeling the warmth that had enveloped me being replaced with the familiar feeling of emptiness. Loneliness. No contact except that of my own arms resting against my sides. I looked up at him, but his gaze was pointed to the floor of the trailer, studying the beer he'd dropped in his desparation to embrace me. His face was flushed, his eyes red and wet with tears. I fought the urge to feel sorry for him, to reach out and touch him once more; I fought the urge by fiercely reminding myself of who he was, what he is: a psychopath. A murderer. A thief.

 _But that doesn't mean you can't be there for him._ I shook my head, trying to silence the voices inside of me that wanted so desparately to erupt from within and scream to this man, this broken man, that _I'll fix you, I'll hold you, I'll--_

"I'm sorry I scared you," he half-whispered, unheeding to anything other than the bottle that lay on its side at his feet. When I didn't reply, he simply jerked his head in my direction with little to no enthusiasm. "On your porch that night. I had been seein' you standin' out there a few nights before-" ( _Oh, great. Busted._ ) "-and hell, half of the fucking desert stared at me when I first moved down here, so I get it," he explained in a sad tone. I simply listened as he went on. " 'Trevor's crazy! Crazy Trevor!', am I right? Ha. They don't know the half of it," he muttered, almost as if I were not meant to hear. His volume and enthusiasm increased in his next statement, however, as he rose from his seat on the couch and began to pace his trailer. He spoke to me in a pointed tone. "But what I don't get, sugar... What I _need_ to understand, is just why," and he took the dramatic pause in his sentence here to turn to me abruptly and jab a finger in my direction, "why'd you knock the gun outta my hand if you're scared'a me? Why'd you come over here in the middle of the night, ain't you scared?" By the end of his speech, he was all but yelling in my face. I did my best to wear a poker face, trying hard to suppress the fear and anxiety that would cause me to bolt if I let it get into my head- and I got the distinct feeling that _bolting_ was not a wise thing to do in this moment. 

I breathed in, preparing a shaky response when he continued to roar in my face. "Why aren't you scared of me?" 

Though his voice rendered anger, his eyes read sadness. His eyes, again, were not those of a psychopath but those of someone who had taken numerous killings and lived through them all. And, honestly? In that moment, I wasn't scared of him. I may have been scared of his weapons or his drugs or his tempestuous nature, but not of _him_. So I found my courage, sorta, and spoke in a trembling voice. "Because, Trevor," I squeaked, realizing that this was the first intelligible thing I'd really said directly to him since I arrived only moments ago, "I know you're not going to hurt me. I know you wouldn't do... you **_can't_** do anything to me that I wouldn't do to myself," 

His expression softened dramatically at the last part of my sentence, realizing that... well, that I was damaged, too. I let my eyes drop to my lap, waiting for him to make a move, to say _something_... and he did. He dropped to his knees in front of me, taking one of my hands in his and ran his fingers over my knuckles lightly. "I don't believe you," he said in a hushed tone, not taking his eyes off of my hands. 

We sat like that in comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up. "You should go," he stated monotonously, both to himself and I, it seemed. I furrowed my brows in confusion, having believed that I gotten through to him in some way... but of course, I didn't know Trevor. I had no room to make guesses nor rights to assume that this was going to go any other way. Still, I jerked my hand from his and threw a defensive glare his way. " _Why?_ " I hissed, not bothering to conceal my irritation. _Maybe you can't fix everyone..._

Trevor immediately matched me in intensity, which did not surprise me one bit. "Because!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a dramatic gesture and rising from the floor of his trailer. "I don't even know your name and this conversation is making me want things I... I can't fucking have!" 

"And why the hell not, Trevor?" I all but screamed back at him, rising to my feet as well. He had gotten me worked up, though I wasn't sure why I was reacting so strongly. He had teased me, for lack of better words. He dangled one of my innermost desires right in front of my face, had even given me a taste of it, and now he's going to take it all back? _Okay, so maybe I did know why I was reacting so strongly._

"Because I'll ruin it! I'll fuck it up! If I don't fuck it up in with a jerry can or in a hail of fucking bullets, I'll do it with my own goddamn hands 'cause that's what I do! I don't fix things, I break them!" He howled, his fists balled at his sides. After a moment, his knuckles loosened and his shoulders dropped slightly. He continued in a more level tone, "I can't fix you. I don't care what your stupid romance novels or shitty Vinewood productions tell ya, sweetie, I'm bad news. This whole desert knows it,"

He stepped over to the threshold of what I believed to be his bedroom, stopping in the doorway with his back to me. I was still standing there, in my nightgown, barefoot on the floor of his trailer... just staring at him with a heart that somehow felt heavier than it had when I'd entered not even an hour ago. I cleared my throat, taking one last feeble attempt at making this night more than just a big, stupid misunderstanding. I took a shaky breath and walked toward him, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my head against his bare back. He smelled slightly of gasoline and dirt, but surprisingly not unpleasant. I tightened my grip. "Please don't," I whispered, mimicking his first words of the night to me. I felt him tense up slightly. "Don't what?"

" _Don't go_."

And just like that, he spun around in my arms- my grasp loosening considerably in reaction to his sudden movement -and effortlessly lifted me by my waist before crushing me against him and crashing his lips into mine. I reacted instantly, placing my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as he maneuvered us into the bedroom. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, little lady," he growled against my lips. I simply smiled against him in response, running my hands through his thinning hair. 

I don't think he ever did catch my name that night.


	2. A Reason to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor learns Misty's name! Among other things... They come to an agreement of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Two things! 1.) I've preplanned the events of each chapter (so that I don't rush through when writing), so I'm sorry if they run extra long or extra short on occasion. I may revise once more has been released. 2.) Just like my other one-shot, this OC is actually from Georgia as well- I do this because I'm from Georgia and I find it easy to build my characters that way, it gives me a reference for their personalities. Thanks for reading and encouraging me to continue, let me know how I did! (Also, the character and story tags reference events that have not yet occurred and/or information that has not yet been disclosed.)

"Why'd you come out here, sweetcheeks?"

Trevor and I were a tangled mess of limbs, curled together within the cotton confines of his bed. I lay draped across his chest, listening to the quickened beat of his heart as we came down from our orgasm-induced highs. One of his rough hands had been tucked into my tangled hair, massaging my scalp lightly as I sighed, trying to formulate a safe answer. This moment was high upon the list of those that I had wished never to end; it had been so long since I had basked in such a pleasant afterglow, unbothered by the feeling of my skin sticking to his as we lay twisted together on top of his mattress. I inhaled deeply. "I could hear you from my trailer, Trev," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. I felt his hand tense in my hair for just a moment before resuming as he sighed lightly. "Oh," is all he said in response. 

I twisted so that his hand was forced out of my hair and I propped myself on my elbow, looking up at him expectantly. He sort of scowled in response, I'm assuming because he was unsure how to react to someone wishing to conversate after sex. Y'know, just if I had to make a guess. My assumption was all but confirmed in his next quip. "What is it? You wantin' to talk about our feelings now, or some shit?" I chuckled. "No, no, that comes later," I said, smirking at him lightheartedly. "Right now, we talk about our hopes and dreams; what worked out for us, what didn't- ya know. The basics of cliche." 

He groaned, dragging both of his hands down his face, which elicited a hearty laugh from me. Once I'd calmed down, I lay on my back in a position similar to his, letting my eyes close as I faced the ceiling. I hummed softly in contentment, moving so that our skin just barely touched on either side of us- enough to feel each other's presence, which was all that mattered in the moment. "Ya know," he said, suddenly but still softly, breaking the silence only enough to prompt me to open my eyes. "Whether you _cared_ about my wellbeing or were simply suffering from a case of curiosity, it takes a lotta guts to come after Trevor Philips. I appreciate that."

I chuckled softly in reaction, moving my eyes so that I could just barely see him out of my peripheral vision. "Is that so?"

"Well, yeah, _of course_ , it fucking is," he replied, the volume of his voice creeping upward. "Everyone in this desert all but shits their pants when I look at 'em, but you," he exclaimed, turning so that he was looking directly at me, "You had it in ya to approach me, my home, you..." He trailed off, struggling with his words a little before sighing. "You tried to save my life. More people in this world would rather see me dead than alive, if I'm bein' honest." 

The brokenness behind his words as he spoke them, the sadness that clung to each syllable resonated within me. I turned to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips before smiling at him kindly. "Well, on a much smaller level, I could probably say the same," I half-whispered with a small sigh. I let my eyes fall to the sheet beneath us, still facing him but avoiding him with my eyes. I felt a familiar sadness begin to settle over me, accumulating in a small lump at the back of my throat. Before any tears could fall, however, I felt Trevor place a strong hand on my hip, squeezing it lightly through the cotton sheet that covered us. I looked up at him. "Now, just who exactly," he said softly, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth, "would want an angel such as yourself anywhere close to dead?" 

I chuckled, feeling a light blush cross my features. "Oh... no one you would know," I smirked, knowing that my world and the pain I felt in my everyday existence was fundamentally different from his and/or anything he experienced. The lump in my throat seemed to pulse at the realization, causing tears to well in my eyes and blur my vision before I snapped them shut. Trevor didn't seem to notice. 

"Oh-ho-ho, you underestimate me," he replied humorously, giving my hip another light squeeze. "I have _many_ connections, my dear. Just say the word and-... _oh_..." I had begun to sniffle, crying and smiling at the same time- crying because I knew there was nothing he could actually do to help me, and smiling because I had a distinct feeling that he was being serious. If I gave him a name, I had very little doubt that said person would be out of this plane of existence within the week- but that isn't what I wanted. 

Trevor lives in a world where problems can be solved by flames and bullets, whereas I come from a world where problems are merely _avoided_. Forgotten in the dead of night, on a plane to San Andreas with the entirety of my family and friends tens of thousands of miles behind and below me... Or in the early morning, tears streaming down my face in the back of a cab as I watched everything I was running toward months before crashing and burning right before my eyes... in the form of angry hands wrapped around my throat as the corners of my vision darkened, threatening--

"Hey, angel, you okay?" My eyes opened abruptly, drinking in the sight of a concerned Trevor, propped up on his elbow, staring down at me with furrowed brows. I sniffled, using the corner of my sheet to dab at my eyes- apologizing to Trevor as I did so -while trying and failing to contain myself long enough to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh... You don't have to- I don't want you to... It's okay! I'm okay, I just-"

He grabbed at my shaking wrist with his free hand, pulling my hand from my face. " _Slow. Down._ "

I stared into his brown eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat and exhaling deeply. "Okay." I simply uttered in response, satisfying him just enough so that he released my wrist. I rubbed at it, not that he'd grasped it very hard, I was simply trying to distract myself from the way he made my skin tingle at the slightest touch. I sighed. 

"No one literally wants me dead, Trevor." 

He pulled a confused face. "Pardon?" 

I chuckled softly at the idea of a phrase so metaphorical in my world being so literal in his. "I just don't have a lot of people on my side right now, that's all. There may be a person or two who wouldn't blink at the sight of my rotting corpse, but..." I shrugged. "Not quite all of them."

I don't think he fully understood my response, but he let himself fall back onto the mattress with a somewhat satisfied "Huh." escaping his lips. I shook my head, smiling lightly. I fell onto my back, as well. "Huh, indeed." 

"My only best friend faked his death to get away from me." 

He had spoken so suddenly, I was almost asleep when his words shook most of the exhaustion from my system. I wasn't sure I heard him correctly, but before I could ask for clarification, he continued.

"He was the first person to ever... _really_ make me feel valuable in some way. Like I had a purpose, like I knew what I wanted to do. And yeah, sure, maybe those _things_ are illegal and/or morally unjustifiable to most but... Agh, whatever, that's not important. He cared about me, angel. He was the first and... probably the last to really, _really_ fuckin' care, for a long fuckin' time!"

He paused before letting out a heavy sigh. 

"And then there's Patricia," he spoke her name softly, yet with an edge- he missed her, I could tell, but the way that he spoke... there was a distinct venom that told me that his ties to this _Patricia_ had been long severed. He continued. "Our love may have been _unconventional_ , okay? Now, I'm well aware of that," He stopped and let out another sigh. "But it was love, angel! I loved her. And I can't say for sure, but I think she loved me too. Just not enough to break her vow to her husband, apparently," he muttered the last part of the statement- not an unusual inflection for Trevor's speech pattern. I understood regardless.

"How did you meet her?" I asked, prying for more information about Trevor's life. Until this point, all I'd known- and all I imagine anyone knows -about him is that he was a crazy motherfucker who left destruction behind him in any direction he traveled. Having him open up to me like this was almost surreal. He let out one more, elongated and emphasized sigh before simply stating, "I kidnapped her from Martin Madrazo," 

My eyes widened and I shot up in his bed, twisting so that I was looking down at his oblivious face upon which a defined frown had been plastered. "You _what?_ " 

He groaned, turning so that his back faced me and I could no longer see his expression. "I said unconventional, did I not? Listen, you gotta look past that part. We. Were. In. Love," he whined, a slight growl creeping into his voice with each syllable of his declaration of love. I scoffed. "You said she didn't love you back," I said, with just a slight air of smugness to my voice. He turned back toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Not enough to leave her husband!" 

I sighed, humor evident in my voice. I settled back down into Trevor's bed, facing him once again. We laid there in silence, eyeing each other for what felt like hours. The sun had just started to rise outside, casting a barely detectable blue glow through the single window in Trevor's bedroom. I silently wondered if he owned a clock, or if he even needed one with such a spontaneous lifestyle, but I figured it wasn't significant enough to dampen the moment with. 

I felt a sudden eagerness to spill about my life and my past, just as he'd done his... to a degree, of course. "I came to San Andreas about a year and a half ago, pining after a boy I'd been semi-seeing for a while," I said, only loud enough for him to hear as he studied my face. I let my eyes fall from his gaze as I continued. "It was a long distance thing for a while, something that most people would probably scoff at but... I loved him, ya know? And I figured, if I love him, I had to make it work. So I did." I paused. "For a while."

"Then, he gives me this ultimatum one day. He's like, 'We can't keep traveling cross-country to see each other. I need you here or we've gotta move on', but in... much less polite terms. And I was just dumb enough to listen to him, ha," I snorted, listening to my story coming from my own mouth as if it were the first time I'd actually spoken it aloud... in front of Trevor, it seemed so insignificant. I almost wanted to shrug it off and say 'nevermind' but when I chanced a glance in his direction, he wore an expression of investment. Like he wanted me to continue. 

"I figured, what the hell? I had nothing left for me in that place, or so I thought, and so one night... I stole about $1,000 from my parents and booked a flight out to Los Santos. My friends were furious. My folks were disappointed in me. I knew that if I left, I could never go back, and for some reason it only made me want to leave even more," I chuckled, twisting at the top of the sheet between us. I cleared my throat before the lump that was threatening to form there made its debut. "Skipping a bunch of unnecessary drama, I'm in LS right? This gross ass apartment in Little Seoul with stained carpets and cracks in the wall, living what I thought was going to be my best life with my one true love... and I was fine with it at first. I'd say the shit storm didn't _really_ start until I came home one day to a brand new tapestry stretching from the ceiling to the floor hung on our living room wall, decorated in National Socialist paraphernalia and swastikas," 

Trevor's eyes widened, his brows shooting upward in surprise. "You ran away with a fuckin' Nazi?" 

I slapped at his chest playfully, detecting slight humor in his exclamation. "Ran away _to_ , Trev. There's a difference. And I didn't know he was one at the time, okay? He just... decided he could start showing his true colors, I guess." I shrugged, not really knowing how to explain myself. 

"That's gold, holy shit. A fuckin' Nazi," he laughed to himself, resuming a position facing upward. This time, however, I snuggled into his side and rested my head against him. He didn't seem to mind, shifting so that his arm was draped lazily around me. I sighed, allowing my eyes to close before finishing the story quickly. "Long story short... things didn't work out. And here I am, living the life out in the middle of the desert--" 

"Gettin' nice and friendly with CEO of Trevor Philips Enterprises," I could hear him grin through his statement. I chuckled, at the time unaware of the fact that TPE (TPE, TPI, whatever) was a _very_ real thing. I had begun to let exhaustion catch up to me and sleep wash over me when I heard Trevor mutter something into my hair. "Hey, angel... What's your real name? 'Seems we may have skipped a few bases in our _eagerness_ to get to know each other," 

I laughed sleepily and without opening my eyes, I replied with a content sigh. "Misty... Misty Applewhite,"

 

I woke up to familiar desert heat enveloping my body along with the distinct feeling of nakedness against sheets that I didn't recognize. It took a whole sixty seconds for me to remember the events of the night before, the realization slapping me in the face with a million different realities. _Oh my god, this is Trevor Philips' bed. Oh my god, you had sex with Trevor Philips. Oh my god, it was actually really good. Oh my god, you don't regret it at all, do you? Oh my god, oh--_ **Where the hell is Trevor?**

I looked over to see his side of the bed empty, sheets pulled back haphazardly but with no other sign of him having been there. I peered over the side of the bed to see my nightgown where it had been discarded, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen. Refusing to marinate on the fact that he _totally_ changed into dirty clothes before running off to do whatever it is he was doing, I surveyed the room and _did_ find a dim alarm clock sitting on his bedside table. It read 8:45AM, meaning I had probably only gotten a grand total of 2-3 hours of sleep before emerging from my rest. Sighing, I rose from the tattered mattress and slipped into my nightgown, not without noticing that my underwear just so happened to be missing, silently thanking the universe that it came down below my knees. I ran my hand through my hair in an attempt to rid it of a few tangles as I stepped onto Trevor's porch, immediately noting the absence of his truck. 

"Weird..." I mumbled to myself, gazing over to my mobile home just a few yards away. I considered walking over there to resume my life as it once was, but the thought of the potential consequences thereof provided a more than adequate reason to stay. _What if you walk away now and you never see him again? He never attempts to contact you... you never attempt to contact him... he'll notice that you're missing and he'll think you ran away in regret! And then he'll resent you forever, 'cause that man doesn't seem like the type to let go of grudges easily..._ I sighed.

_Or, you stay. You let him into your life, into your pants, into your heart and he ruins it all. Just like **him**_ **. You'll have to rebuild everything all over again. Do you really want that, Misty?**

Do I? Before I could continue mulling over the million different possible endings of such a simple choice, the loud engine of an approaching Canis caught my attention. Trevor pulled up to the front of his trailer, visibly disgruntled in the driver's side. He exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him before turning to reprimand the man who exited after him. I could just barely make out the tail end of the conversation, having to rely heavily on my lip-reading skills that hadn't been polished since high school. He appears to be shouting a name every other sentence... Mitchell? Maybe? The only words I could make out for certain weren't friendly nor did they really offer any sort of insight to the situation. 

Trevor let out an audible groan, cursing at the terrified man behind him as he approached his fence and climbed over it with a grunt rather than walking those extra three feet to enter through the gate like a normal person. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed me standing there, staring with curious eyes from his top porch. After a moment of silent deliberation, he continued advancing up the steps before stopping in front of me. "Listen, angel, it's uh... Probably best if you go home," 

The words hit me like a spike strip wrapping around my heart in one sudden movement. I hoped the hurt was evident in my eyes as I repeated to him, "Go home?" with a slight edge to my voice. Trevor's eyes twitched at my attitude, probably not expecting me to actually be here to see him return, let alone be _offended_ at the suggestion that I leave. 

He sighs, glancing at the man behind him, not hiding a fascinated stare in our direction. Trevor cursed under his breath. "Ron, go home," He stated, I assumed he was referring to the aforementioned man, but... he made no move to leave the premises. Trevor turned in his direction, balling his fists at his sides. "Go!" He shouted, causing a poor boy on his ATV across the street to jump. When he focused his attention back on me, his expression had softened considerably. "Look," he said, sighing lightly, "I've got some business to take care of. I'm not sayin' I don't wanna see you again, angel, _trust me_ ," 

Something about the way his voice dropped an octave when he said 'trust me' or the way he called me 'angel' brought goosebumps to my skin, making me ache for his touch once more... but I resisted, furrowing my brows as I looked up at him. "I... can't. I'm not leaving until I have reason to believe that you actually mean that, Trevor," I persisted, knowing very well that I was probably pushing his buttons. The seductive look he wore on his face fell as I said this, being replaced by an expression of annoyance. He groaned. "Why the fuck woudn't I mean it? If I wanted meaningless sex, I woulda just paid you and sent you on your way last night, _Misty Applewhite_ ," 

I had to admit, the fact that he cared to remember my name was a pleasant surprise to the part of me that had been so convinced that this was all a big mistake. A glimmer of hope erupted in my chest at the thought, but I stomped it out with a foot of reason. I kept pushing. "I need to hear you say it," I said, crossing my arms over my chest before he let his eyes wander to the area. He groaned, massaging his temples with both hands just as I'd seen him do the night before. "Alright, alright, fine! Fuck. I will see you again- I _want_ to see you again, Misty. I just... Don't really know when. I wasn't lying about that _business_ I mentioned a minute ago." 

My hardened face softened into a childlike grin, happy with my little win. I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek before feeling him push me away grumpily. I chuckled as I detected the slightest ghost of a blush creeping across his face as I did so, pushing past him to walk toward my home. I let him know I needed to get some actual sleep before my shift at the liquor store in a few hours, to which he simply grunted in response. I'd maybe walked about three feet before hearing him call after me. 

"Hey, sweetcheeks! Take this!" He tossed an unidentified object at me, which I was somehow able to catch before it landed in the sand below. The warmth of the metal told me it had been tucked somewhere against his skin only moments before; that along with the familiar detail on the barrel leading me to the realization of its significance. It was the "pistol" from the night before. I looked up with a confused expression as he grinned back at me. "What's this for?" I called back. 

"For protection," he smirked before turning away and entering his trailer, leaving me staring up at his empty porch with a feeling of disbelief growing in my stomach. _How the fuck am I supposed to get to sleep after all that?_


	3. Policy of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty encounters someone interesting at work, and thereby kinda sorta saves Trevor's ass. Again. (Semi explicit chapter) (Kinda) (Just Trevor being a creep tbh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! A little bit of a short chapter today, this is just a friendly reminder that feedback is hella appreciated! I've planned out a majority of the events of the story, but if you have any ideas or things you might want to see as it unfolds, leave me a comment! Thank you, let me know how I did!

Naturally, when I'd arrived back to my trailer, sleep did not come easily. The physical exhaustion I was experiencing wasn't quite enough to actually lull me to sleep, it only made it harder to concentrate on the anxious thoughts plaguing my mind. 

Honestly, what the fuck happened over there? It was surreal, to say the least. To think that I'd actually snuck onto Trevor Philips' property... And I'd gotten out alive! Alive and, for once in my life, feeling slightly less lonely. 

But how long would it last? It was a cruel reality that I knew I must confront, the likely chance that everything would have been for nothing and that he'd eventually forget me or let me down in some way. After all, I had no reason to assume that he wouldn't. How do I know he doesn't pour his heart out in the dead of night to every girl that slides into bed with him? Trevor may come across as a little bit on the loony side, but I could tell that he was not without intelligence. He's intense and he wears his emotions on his sleeve to a degree that I don't think he even notices, but he's not stupid. He could easily be deceiving me, but the burning question in the back of my mind was: _Why would he?_

 _Wow, my optimistic side is really showing today._ I sighed, stepping into my bathroom and dragging a brush through my tangled hair as I stared at my reflection. Surprisingly, Trevor hadn't left any noticeable marks. I could almost pretend that nothing had happened the night before, but I really... Really didn't want to. When my hair had been efficiently frizzed out due to my brush and rid of tangles, I threw back a few pills to help me sleep and paced my bedroom for a moment before collapsing onto my bed. 

I kept waiting to feel Trevor's strong arms wrapped around my waist, just as they were last night, but the sensation never came. I waited and waited, trying my best to ignore the suffocating emptiness of my trailer before finally succumbing to slumber. 

 

_Rough hands clumsily grasped at my throat, my vision darkening... I gasped for air, feeling my lungs fill but the pressure on my larynx did not cease. I was in limbo. No matter how much air I inhaled, the distinct sensation of suffocation never left me. I coughed, I tried to squeak out words and beg for mercy, but my attacker would not give. I couldn't see his face, but I knew who he was. Who else could it be? There was another figure in the background, though, slowly advancing on my attacker. Just before he made any move to save me, however..._

_"I've got you, Misty."_

 

I awoke to a familiar rattling noise, the distinct combination of the battered metal and thin glass of my living room window- the one just barely accessible from my porch. It would be accessible, anyway, to someone tall... And strong...

The sound of the window being forced open followed by a loud, dull thud alerted me to the fact that whoever was trying to get in had just successfully done so. I cursed, scared out of my mind, but still in sleep mode. In my paranoid and delirious state, I seemed to have forgotten the unpredictable, LITERAL criminal who had only hours before sworn to see me again. Instead, I sat there shaking in my own bed, clutching my comforter to my chest as I anticipated the worst. 

"Warren?" I called out in a squeak. My voice trembled, I felt cold and small in my bed as I watched the door of my bedroom with growing paranoia. I kept my home fairly dark, taking care to drape black-out curtains against every window. It wasn't for the darkness so much as it was to prevent the desert sun from seeping into my trailer during the day; that being said, my home was dimly lit 24/7. Hell, sometimes, I couldn't tell if it were night or day. The darkness of my home provided an ideal environment for my fear to multiply as I stared to my door, having left it slightly ajar. _It's him. It's got to be him. He's out there, I know he is, he's got to be looking for me. He's **going** to find me._ My quivering hand reached to my bedside table, searching for reassurance, searching for... 

And that's when I found it. My fingers brushed against the cool metal of the "pistol" Trevor had thrown me before I departed early that morning. Feeling the weapon against my palm sent a wave of comfort throughout my body, sending my thoughts back to those strong arms of his- how they tightened every time I moved, as if any slight stir was an indication that I was about to bolt. I sighed, momentarily forgetting the situation that had enveloped my thoughts only moments before.

"Who the fuck is Warren?" The familiar gruff voice called my attention. I dropped the weapon immediately, my gaze meeting that of the _tall, strong_ man standing in the doorway of my bedroom. I narrowed my eyes. _"Really, Trevor?"_

His mouth twitched as if he were doing his best to conceal a smile, instead donning a look of faux offense. "Oh, excuse me for fulfilling a _promise_. Didja not want to see me after all, angel?" 

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "You didn't have to break in through my fucking _window_." He cursed under his breath. 

"I was trying not to wake you, alright? _However_ , your window rattles if you look at it the wrong way- and those thick ass curtains? It's almost as if you don't _want_ someone sneaking in through your window in the middle of the night," He glanced at the sunlight that peaked out of the top of the similar curtains hung over my bedroom window. "Or, uh... _afternoon_." 

I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to smooth some of the sleep from it. "I'm sorry for not accommodating _burglars_ in this house, Trevor. Truly, I am." 

He smirked, walking to the edge of my bed and clumsily plopping down close enough to me that I felt the warmth radiating from his body. When he laid a rough hand on the area of my leg that peaked out from under my comforter, I could have sworn I felt the heat of the desert on his skin. It was a pleasant sensation, warming me from the inside-out. I shivered as his hand began to creep upward, coming dangerously close to a rather intimate area. 

I glanced at the alarm clock to my right. 3:02PM. Fuck. As much as I wanted to surrender to his touch, his _wonderful, intimate_ touch, I cursed and slapped his arm away just before he reached the point of no return. He glared at me as I did so, but I had no time to take it to heart. "I'm sorry, Trev, my next shift starts in less than 30 minutes. I can't afford to be late--!"

It had taken about a split second for Trevor to let out a rather inhuman sounding grunt and pull me by my legs to the edge of the bed, wasting no time in burying his face between my thighs. I gasped, suddenly remembering my lack of underwear, and reacted immediately with a futile attempt to snap my legs closed. He emitted a pleased groan in response, apparently turned on by my struggle. _Why am I not surprised?_

"Trevor!" I yelled, squirming in his grasp. He sighed, and although he had my hips in a vice grip, he looked up at me with an expression of both extreme annoyance and arousal. "Yes, _angel_?" He hissed, obviously becoming rather irritated by my lack of cooperation. 

I felt a blush hot against my face as I did my best to glare at him. "I'm serious, Trevor. I'm saving up for something... I can't miss another shift. And my rent is due soon, it's just not a good--"

He released my hips, his face now displaying a pleading look of intrigue. "Saving? For what?"

I took the opportunity to yank my legs up to my chest so that he couldn't grab them again. My thighs are definitely on the thick side, so it was a challenge to retain the position. Nonetheless, I held it as I hastily replied, "It's... Nothing, okay?", trying my best to drop the subject.

He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Name it." 

I shot him a confused glare. "Pardon me?"

He had started to edge toward me on the bed, his playful smirk intensifying. "Spit it out, angel. I can make it happen for ya."

I furrowed my brows in confusion, clutching my legs closer to my chest with a scoff. "I don't need a sugar daddy, Trevor. I need to get to work."

He narrowed his eyes at me for a second before groaning and sliding off the edge of the bed. "Ya know what? That's fine. I will let you go because I _respect_ you, angel. And I admire your workin' spirit. Not enough of 'em in this state, if you ask me." 

I couldn't help but giggle, hopping to my feet as well. "Thank you, Trevor. For _letting_ me go to work."

I brushed past him, intending to make my way to my bathroom to get a quick shower but his hand caught my arm before I could take a single step forward. "Hey," He said softly- well, softly for Trevor anyway. His face was set in an indifferent stare, but I read concern in his eyes. "Who's Warren?"

The smile fell from my face the moment His name escaped his lips. I shook my head, trying to erase the sound from my mind. "I, uh.." I stuttered, struggling to string my thoughts into a sentence, "No one, Trev. Don-don't worry about it, okay?" 

His grip on my arm tightened. My eyes were closed but had I been staring at his face, I was almost sure I would see the scowl that tinted his next words. "That's _him_ , ain't it?" 

I sighed, gathering the courage to open my eyes and look up at him. _Yep. A scowl._ "Isn't it obvious?" 

And with that, his grip loosened on my arm. 

\--------------------------

After a few more dodged attempts at seduction, I had somehow managed to get through to Trevor that skipping work was not an option at the moment. Reluctantly, he let me slip through his grasp and into the liquor store only a short walk away from my place. It wasn't the busiest business on the block but it paid the bills, even if working there was an entirely mundane experience most of the time. 

It isn't that we didn't get _any_ customers, we just got the _same_ ones over and over. Being parked at the edge of what was pretty much a residential area in what I would describe as nothing short of a desolate wasteland voluntarily exiled from the rest of the world, we had come to expect frequent visits from the usuals: hookers trying to take the edge off of the night, local drunks, Trevor on occasion (though, he never approached the counter once-- there was actually protocol in place to let him do whatever), and that pretty much summed up my interactions for the day. 

That being said, it was shocking to see a new face saunter confidently into the store that evening. It was around 5:30, I still had another few hours left before closing up for the night, so I definitely wasn't tired enough to have simply imagined the dread the man stirred in the pit of my stomach. He was well-dressed; he donned a perfectly tailored, obviously expensive suit and tie. Aside from that, he was also well-groomed to an extent that was extremely uncommon in Sandy Shores... but what got me was his voice. Something about it was so familiar, I just couldn't place where I'd heard it before.

"I take it _you're_ just visiting, huh?" I smiled at him politely as he browsed our nearby selection of barely-refrigerated beer. The man chuckled before throwing a lighthearted smirk my way. "How'd'ja guess?" 

_Midwestern accent? Hmm._ I scoffed. "Oh, you know _exactly_ how I guessed."

He chuckled, pulling open a glass door before pulling out a case of Piswasser's. "So, it's that obvious, huh?" 

"It's pretty obvious, yeah," I laughed, eyeing him a little more closely as he approached. He glanced around the store before asking, "Tell me, doll, you seen Trevor Philips anywhere around here lately?" 

The change in his voice sent a chill down my spine. There was a definite shift in the atmosphere, the friendly look in his eyes had been replaced by an expression I can't describe... but I knew it wasn't good. He seemed to have picked up on my hesitation, sighing lightly. "C'mon, we both know you know Trevor. What's he been up to?" 

"I haven't seen his truck around for a while," I blurted, feeling the sudden overwhelming need to protect him from... something. I didn't really know what just yet. The man in front of me frowned as I rung him up. I continued. "I live, uh... across the street from him. I know he runs off for a few days at a time sometimes, and I think this is one of those times."

 _Lie, lie, lie._ The man took his beer and cursed, dragging a hand through his hair in mild frustration. "Ah, fuck. Thanks anyway, doll."

And with that, he was gone. He took the beers and left, throwing a wad of cash at me (obviously more than enough to cover the beer) and walking out before I had time to gather his change. I hated lying. I did. Something just wasn't right with this man, though... I felt it in every sinew and bone in my body. _His intentions are not good._

That feeling of dread stuck with me until the end of my shift, after which I silently swore to myself I'd find Trevor immediately. 

_What the fuck did I just do for this man?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character and story tags may reference events that have yet to occur or information that has yet to be disclosed.


	4. Don't Fear the Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty gets a better idea of Trevor's lifestyle... firsthand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, this one's a little rough. It was one of those build-up chapters that are probably more fun to read than they are to write. Hope you guys like it anyway!

As I closed up for the night, moving through the routine as quickly as I could get away with, I thought back on all of the times someone had walked through these doors looking for Trevor Philips... and I came up with a grand total of zero. Zero times had anyone approached my counter asking for Trevor by name. People didn't come around looking for Trevor; those who seek him know where to find him... provided that he doesn't find them first. 

I suppose there could have been several explanations for the man's search, but something about him felt extremely off. I had grown somewhat attached to Trevor after the night before, having been so lonely before his dramatic entrance to my life, and with that attachment came an overwhelming urge to protect him in any way I could. While I knew he'd spend most of his time in the heat of battle, vulnerable and at the will of any who dared to come at him, this was something I could do for him. In my world, it may be easy to write something like this off; if he were to ask for Shannon, my other neighbor, I may not have even blinked an eye at the idea of a well-dressed man prancing into my place of work and casually discussing her whereabouts. _But no_ , he'd asked for Trevor... His expensive suit and icy blue stare became much more sinister as that name rolled off his tongue. This man was not from my world. 

Once the doors had been shut for the final time that night, I hurried to Trevor's place in a purposeful march. I was hesitant at first to wander onto his property unannounced for a second time, but I ignored the anxiety and pushed on through his gate, hopping up the steps and tapping on the door of his trailer as loudly as I dared to do so. The Impotent Rage theme playing loudly from within its walls was indication enough that he was awake- I tapped again after a few minutes with no response. I heard cursing followed by stomping followed by the door opening suddenly and loudly slamming against the inside of the trailer wall, revealing a half-naked Trevor donning only a bright pink pair of briefs. His intense glare softened into a slightly annoyed frown as he took in the sight of me standing in his doorway. My hair and clothes had been dampened by the pattern of rain that had started to fall just before I left the liquor store, the chill of the desert night causing me to shiver a little as the door swung open in front of me. 

"Hey, angel," he smirked, obviously unbothered by his vulnerability- standing barely clothed in front of me. _He must think he's hot shit._

__

__

_And he kinda is._

I forced a smile, clearing my throat to alert him to the lack of humor in my visit. "Hey, Trev," I responded, rocking on my heels impatiently. "I need to--"

"Miss me?" He took a step toward me, leaning in to place a sensual kiss on my lips. He must have sensed my discomfort, pulling away at my lack of response. "That not okay?" 

I shook my head, placing a hand on his chest gently. "No! That's not it, I just have to-"

He grunted, grabbing my arms and pulling me into him. His mouth crashed against mine in a hungry attempt to awaken my desire, his hand moving to tangle within in my hair and his arousal evident against me. I moaned involuntarily, temporarily forgetting the purpose of my visit as I surrendered to his touch. 

He chuckled, breaking the kiss to grin at me. "There she is," he purred, leaning in to resume. All at once, I remembered those blue eyes cutting into me-

"Trevor, no!" I blurted, shaking him off of me. He backed away, raising his palms in a defensive stance. "Alright, alright, I won't push ya. What's up, cupcake?" 

He moved aside, allowing me entrance to his home. I entered hesitantly, my eyes avoiding his as I stuttered out an explanation. "So uh, Trevor," I began, resting my back against the counter of his kitchenette. He stared back at me, an eyebrow raised in impatient curiosity. "Yeah?" 

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I weighed my options. "Do you know of any people who may be out lookin' for you?"

His face fell. The disinterest quickly shifted to concern as he nearly dropped the beer clutched in his right hand. He furrowed his brows, taking an aggressive step toward me. "What?" He hissed, closing in on me with a look on his face that, frankly, made me wish the floor beneath my feet would swallow me whole. 

I tried my best to convey minimal reaction, however. "S-some dude came into the store today, l-looking for you. He asked for you by name. I told him you were outta town, I-I hope that's okay--"

At this point, Trevor's body was merely inches away from mine, towering over me with a threatening glare. I knew, deep down, that his anger was not directed towards me- but still. I was terrified. 

"What did he look like?" He demanded, hooking a finger under my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Uhh.. Blue eyes-"

He growled. "What else?"

"Sounded like he was from the midwest-"

His hand fell from my chin to the edge of the counter, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white. "And?"

"He was kinda.. old? Like, suburban dad type. The kind that listens to classic rock and shit--"

His brown eyes sparkled with a readable hint of betrayal. "Keep going."

"Uh... He was wearing a suit?"

He withdrew his arm, cursing under his breath and turning so that his gaze was away from me. His fists were balled at his side, his slumped shoulders indicating that his attention was turned to the floor. 

I stared at him, sensing that there was no amount of emotional support that I could give him to dull the blow of whatever had just hit him. I stayed quiet.

"RON!" He yelled, not moving from his place in the middle of his kitchenette, simply waiting for the presence of what I assumed to be his partner-in-crime.

Just as I finished that thought, in stumbled ole Knee Brace, nearly tripping over himself as he approached. "Yes, boss?"

So that's it. "Get the biz-heli ready. I'll be there in twenty fucking minutes; if she ain't ready for me, I'll invert your fucking ribcage. Go!"

Ron hurried away, going to do whatever it is that Ron does when Trevor barks obnoxious orders and threats at him. I didn't have time to consider it much before feeling Trevor grab my hand and physically pull me behind him after quickly wrestling on a pair of camo cargo pants and a brightly colored tank top that didn't match in the slightest. I let him tug me along, not questioning him until I found myself seated in the passenger side of his Canis. I'd never been within two feet of his vehicle; being roughly shoved into it was a bit of a shock. "Uh, Trevor?" I squeaked, watching as he swung his truck onto the road (briefly) before steering off onto what I imagined to be a shortcut straight through the desert. He grunted without looking my way. "If what you have to say doesn't involve the possibility of my receiving road head, you're liable to not like my answer,"

I bit my lip. "Can you just... Tell me where we're going?"

He grunted again, the front end of his truck bouncing off a small hill and back onto the main road. "My airfield."

I turned to look at him, hoping my eyes conveyed the shock I felt. "Your _what_? Trevor, seriously-- where are we going? And what does it have to do with that man?"

He sighed impatiently, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Save your disbelief, sweetie, I'm not in the mood. And as for that _person_ ," he paused, obviously seething. "-he's dangerous. He's a thief, a murderer, a lying sack of shit--" He paused again as he swerved out of his lane to pass an ATV. "--but most importantly, he ain't a man."

I listened, trying to ignore my loose hair whipping wildly around me as he drove so recklessly toward his destination. "He's a fuckin' traitor. A fuckin' Judas. He doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself--"

His insight at this point had become only insults, seemingly referencing personal events and information that I knew nothing about. Still, knowing this didn't soothe my concerns. Among Trevor's babbling, he disclosed several crimes that this "Michael Townley" had been- in his own words -personally responsible for. These including, but not limited to:

Robbing the Vangelico store in early August of that year.  
Several shootings, deaths, even government level crimes that I wasn't sure he even had the authority to accuse someone of...  
And the fucking Union Depository? 

_Just who the fuck is Trevor involving himself with?_

"Did he have anyone with him?" My thoughts were halted at the sound of his voice, demanding my attention. I didn't register his question immediately, so when I returned a blank face in response, he groaned. "Tonight, did he have anyone with him when he came in?" 

I shook my head. 

"Did you see his vehicle?" 

I thought back to the lot outside of the doors the night in question. I remembered seeing a flash of black speeding away as he left and provided there was no one else in the store at the time, it was safe to assume that was him. "It was black."

He seemed satisfied with those answers, simply grunting once I'd finished talking. I, however, was extremely uncomfortable with the lack of details I had been provided. My anxiety had been heightened by the tension, only worsening as I began to stew more on my ideas of what, exactly, Trevor had planned. "Trevor," I stated, trying my best to force confidence. 

He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. "Yes?"

"Can I get a few more details about this plan of yours?" 

"There is no plan," he spat, not missing a beat nor blinking an eye. 

"None at all?" 

"Nope." 

_Is he actually a child?_ "Trevor, I'm sorry, but no," I muttered, shaking my head. He tore his eyes from the road ahead to glare at me. "No? No what?" 

The anger burning within his light brown eyes made me wince internally, but I did my best to stand my ground. "I don't want to be an accessory to this-- _whatever_ it is, Trevor!"

He turned his attention back to the road, chuckling to himself. "You became an _accessory_ when you lied on my behalf, angel."

At that point, I knew any argument I could concoct would be in vain. Sighing heavily, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat of his Canis, hoping that the scenery of the desert could assuage some of the ever-growing anxiety rattling around in my head. 

_Hope._

 

We arrived at the hangar just in time to see Ron scampering off into the night. I didn't necessarily doubt that Trevor had his own airfield- honestly, it seemed very _on brand_ for him. I think I'd be more shocked to find that he was lying, really. 

He pulled into the airfield, passing the helicopter so quickly and nonchalantly that I almost didn't register it at first. I gawked at the vehicle, black but crudely painted over in red to display various choice phrases that were very _Trevor_. I had never been this close to a helicopter in my life, and I had the distinct feeling that Trevor didn't bring me here to stare at it in shock. 

As soon as the thought entered my mind, the passenger door was pulled open and I nearly spilled out onto the sand. Trevor was quick to catch me, however, the gentleman he is. I didn't even notice him leaving the vehicle; I was too lost in my amazement. 

"Alright, princess, let's go," he muttered, nudging me in the direction of the helicopter. I hesitated, stopping dead in my tracks to gawk some more, but this time in fear rather than fascination. 

"I don't know about this, Trevor," I mumbled, taking a step back toward his Canis. I saw him narrow his eyes as he took a threatening step toward me. 

"Come on, Misty," He hissed, refusing to take no for an answer. "Don't you trust me?"

I backed up, feeling the metal of his Canis door graze my back. "Trevor, it's not a matter of trust. I've never been in a helicopter, I've never been involved in any sort of crime in my life-- unless stealing Impotent Rage trading cards from Binco counts, but that doesn't matter! I ain't gonna be an accomplice to whatever it is you've got cookin'," 

As I defended myself, the pitch of my voice increased and my southern accent started to slip through. I was hoping Trevor wouldn't notice, but the smirk playing at the corners of his lips told me that he, in fact, did notice. "Ah, come on, _darlin'_ ," he mocked, exaggerating a faux southern drawl. "Live a little."

I scoffed, offended by the implication of his statement. I groaned angrily, pinching the bridge of my nose in utter annoyance. "Trevor. Think about this-- we just met. What you're asking me to do, it's... Well, I don't know what it is because you won't even tell me! I can't just submit to your spontaneity!" As I finished my rant, I gestured to the phrase "pants down, dick out!" that was crudely scrawled on the side of the helicopter. "I won't be an accomplice to this."

He took another dangerous step toward me, this time dragging his hand through his thinning hair as if contemplating his options. "Look, Misty," he said, his voice soft yet dangerous, "if you could just... do this with me. Please," he looked at me, his eyes glittering with a barely noticeable glint of pain. "I'm not looking for an accomplice, okay? I just need... help,"

I scoffed, trying my best to ignore his pained expression. "That's exactly what an accomplice is, Trevor!" 

"No!" He blurted, clearing his throat and collecting himself seconds after. "You're not going to be in the heat, alright? I need you... with me. You don't have to do anything, jesus- just fuckin'... sit next to me for an hour or two. Would it kill you to keep me company?" 

And all at once, it hit me. He didn't know what he was doing, _but he didn't want to do it alone_. I let out a slow, contemplating breath. "Okay. I'll come with you," as the words left my mouth, his face brightened and a wild, childlike grin crossed his features as he closed the distance between us. I knew what he was going to do before he did it-- he slung me over his shoulder effortlessly, earning an exasperated grunt from me as he did so. As he approached the helicopter and prepared to toss me in, I called to him, "Just _please_ get me back in time for work tomorrow, that's all I ask." 

He simply nodded in response, fastening the various belts and buckles required to keep me safe within the vehicle before hopping into the pilot's seat. As he took off and the blades above us began to sing in the desert sky, I sighed while watching Trevor's Canis become merely a speck in the distance. "Hey, Trev?" 

"Yeah, angel?" He replied without so much as a glance in my direction. 

"Don't get us killed, alright?" 

I saw him smirk in my peripheral vision, but still, his eyes remained on the view ahead. "You got it, darlin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to get up omg. College has really been cutting into my fanfiction time smh. Lmao, thank you for the kudos/comments, keep letting me know how I'm doing!


	5. In the Air Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More dialogue than anything, really. A better establishment of Misty and Trevor's relationship and a peek at how it'll fold out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters may be a little rough, sorry y'all lol. I'm going to Walker Stalker in like a day and I'm so pumped I can't even sleeeeeeep. So I'm writing instead. You're welcome. 
> 
> (And I'll probably see Steven Ogg there lmfao hope I don't faint.)
> 
> ((Now something actually relevant to the story: ------- indicates a somewhat sizeable passing of time.))

I'm not sure what I expected from Trevor's flying, but it certainly wasn't this. 

He maneuvered the helicopter so expertly, so smoothly that I almost forgot that it was _him_ in the pilot's seat. I watched as the desert below us began to shrink as the night sky enveloped the vehicle, causing a chill to skitter through my body. The view, truly, was breathtaking. The glow of the waxing moon left enough light to illuminate crevices in the mountains that I'd never known to exist, some looking almost forgotten in the midst of man's existence. So peaceful that the thought of disturbing these areas felt almost sinful; viewing it felt like the equivalent of being on the knowing side of a secret, a secret of nature, no less. 

"It's nice, ain't it?" Trevor's deep voice filled my ears, causing me to jump. "The view."

I sighed dreamily, wishing I could capture the moment but I couldn't bring myself to rip my eyes away long enough to search for my phone. I settled for staring, instead. "It's beautiful." 

He didn't respond, keeping his focus about flying steadily through the night, gaining altitude so smoothly that I barely even noticed. 

"Do you at least know where you're going, Trev?"

He didn't sound annoyed by my question, surprising the hell out of me. _Must be too focused on flying to be pissed off_ , I thought. "Visiting a friend in the city. Near the Vinewood hills."

I chose not to push it, trying my best to calm the creeping sensation of anxiety climbing up the nape of my neck at the mention of entering Los Santos. I hadn't been back there since... Well, since I _left_. I reassured myself with the knowledge that we'd be going over the city rather than through, which seemed to help a bit.

I exhaled shakily, trying to summon humor to aid in my attempts to calm my nerves. "Ya know, Trev," I smirked, though there was still a slight tremor in my voice. I don't think he noticed as he focused on the night sky. "If this goes well, you might have to bring me back up here sometime... casually."

I noticed an exaggerated scowl paint itself upon his face. "Ya mean like a _date_?" He said, forcing a 'disgusted' sounding inflection into his voice. 

I chuckled to myself in response, shaking my head. "I'll take that as a maybe."

\----------  
"Hey, Trev?"

He grunted, not sparing a glance in my direction. "Are you going to kill someone tonight?" 

He froze at my question; for a moment, it looked as if he were asking himself that same question. He opened his mouth as if to speak but was abruptly interrupted by a beeping noise, followed a voice coming through his headset. "Careful flying over that military base, Boss-- they've been _really_ scanning this area since the whole Unio-" The voice was cut off as Trevor cursed loudly, tugging at some wires before static filled the line. 

But of course, it was too late. The small amount of nerves that had bundled up at the thought of going into LS was barely an iota of the massive beast of anxiety I found myself spiraling into. _The military? The fucking military?_

The familiar sensation of my stomach dropping intensified as I tried my best to implore some of the breathing techniques I'd learned after my years in therapy. _4 seconds... 6 sec- no, wait was it 7? Then 8... I think..._

_What are they going to do if they find us? **They won't.** How could they not? This thing is covered in bright ass red paint- how could you miss it? **It's night time.** Does that even make a difference? He's going to get us killed. **He's going to get us killed.**_

"Take me home," I muttered, feeling nauseous as I felt Trevor's altitude decrease dramatically. I felt feverish, I felt every nerve in my body convulse as my thoughts betrayed me once again. _He's a psychopath, Misty. Why are you putting so much trust in him? It's **him** all over again. You know that, right?_

"Take me home..." I muttered again, just a bit louder. Trevor still hadn't noticed, only glancing in my direction as I frantically turned my head in every direction that could possibly allow me to pretend I was somewhere else... anywhere else. 

_There's that beeping again..._ "Goddammit, Trevor," I whispered, finally settling on squeezing my eyes shut and clutching the belts attached to my chest. He finally looked over at me, his face contorting as he did so. "What? Are you dying over there?" 

"Take me home!" I yelled, not opening my eyes. _Please. Just take me home..._

He scoffed, turning his attention back to the vehicle he was piloting. "Couldn't if I wanted to. We're too far in, doll,"

 _Is he trying to be comforting?_ "Trevor, please, I'm having a fucking panic attack over here!" I did my best to yell, feeling my voice shake regardless. My anxiety, though still present, had begun to fade into anger ever so slightly as I started to fixate on the idea that I had gotten involved with the wrong person. Once again. _Why is he acting so cold?_

He sighed, visibly annoyed. "There's a chute in the back, princess. Ya wanna take a plunge? Be my fucking guest," he grumbled, yanking the helicopter upward now that he'd passed the base. Seeing it fade into the distance caused a modicum of relief to pass through me, but I was nowhere near finished with my tantrum.

"Trevor!" I yelled, glaring at him. "Stop doing that..!"

"What? Keeping us airborne?" He spat through gritted teeth. I sighed heavily, letting loose a small growl-like noise at the end to indicate my frustrations.

"Stop pretending you can't comprehend human emotion, you fucking fuck!" I tried to yell, my still erratic heartbeat causing my voice to tremor. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know! Stop acting like... You don't notice! Or care! I don't know if you're trying to protect yourself from someone, something, anything- just, please can you summon the long-forgotten part of your brain that is capable of exhibiting compassion? And empathy? Is that possible, Trevor?" 

He didn't say anything after that.  
\--------

"So, the rednecks of the desert- they compare to the ones out below the Bible Belt?" 

I scoffed, surprised by his inquiry. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I mean... They're a lot more drunk. Not as much fun, in my opinion, but I reckon I'm a lil' biased,"

"What? How the fuck is that possible?"

"Wait a second-- how did you know I'm from Georgia?"

He scoffed. "I didn't."  
\--------

"--and he wasn't even fucking dead. That slithery, snakey, reptilian piece of shit--"

"Wow, is this guy even human?" I asked flatly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Ex-fucking-xactly!"  
\--------

"Hey, angel, 'there a rifle next to your seat?"

I turned to him, my hair whipping my face during the sudden movement. "Pardon?"

"Relax, it ain't loaded. Just take a peek and let me know if it's there, alright?"

I sighed but obliged shortly thereafter, peering over the armrest to check. 

"Big ole gun? Check."

He chuckled. "Good eye. Now you're gonna use it." 

"Trevor, I'm running out of ways to say 'excuse me?',"

He dismissed my comment with a wave of his hand. "Aw, c'mon. There's an advanced scope attached to it, I need you to use it to spy on that character riiiiight--" he paused dramatically as he poised the helicopter over the figure in question. "--there. Got him?" 

I ran my hands up and down the length of the weapon before settling on a position that felt right; to tell you the truth, though, I'm not totally sure how I managed to rig up the scope on that monster- but I fuckin' did it.

I zoomed in on the man in question to the best of my ability. He was wearing a familiar expensive suit--

"Is that him? Michael?"

Trevor cleared his throat, not sparing a glance in my direction. "Yeah. Follow him with the scope, looks like he's moving out."

I watched as the man entered a car- the same black car I'd seen speeding off into the night earlier. _Wow, that was really only a few hours ago?_

"So, Trevor," I started, not taking my eyes off the man. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but why didn't you just hijack a car to follow him in or something? This seems a little... uncalled for?" 

" _This seems a little uncalled for_ ," he mimicked me in a high pitched voice, causing me to giggle internally. On the outside, I simply scowled at him. "Mikey's been in this business for years, cupcake. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a skilled criminal and a damn good thief. He can tell when a car is following him."

The answer was satisfactory enough; I obviously had no experience or facts to compare it with, so I simply nodded and focused on the car below. "Besides," he added, "it's a lot more fun _this_ way."

 

Luckily, the traffic below was sparse enough that tracking the man was fairly easy. I hadn't been in the city much but when living there, the traffic was extremely unsettling; I had learned a lot of backroads during my stay, feeling that the added travel time was worth avoiding the idiots both in cars and outside of them. That being said, Michael appeared to be taking a long way around to the Murietta Heights area- but when I told Trevor as such, his smirk faded and for a moment, I truly believed he was going to turn around after all.

"I _should have fucking known_ ," he seethed, hissing through gritted teeth. "Of fucking course, he's gotta get Wheels involved. Why wouldn't he?" 

"Wheels?" I inquired lightly. He ignored me. "Alright, angel, change of _fucking_ plans," he growled. _There were plans to begin with?_

"This is gonna move fast. I'm gonna have to set her down a bit... _unconventionally_. Once we're on the ground, you stay with the heli. I'll be back soon enough. Possibly covered in pig blood."

I didn't have a response or an argument prepared for such a statement, so I simply sighed and sat down the rifle as Trevor decreased his altitude. His landing was gentle enough- or at least enough so that I wasn't terrified. It seemed he opted for an open field-type area, not far from a small spattering of houses. I watched as he hopped out of the vehicle the second it had stilled, marching over to my side before leaning in and planting a wet kiss against the side of my head. "Don't go anywhere, angel," he whispered into my hair. He then grabbed the rifle from me, slinging it over his shoulder haphazardly while taking a step backward. "I lied," he told me, winking dangerously. "I always keep my weapons loaded."

And with that, he took off in a stealthy run toward the houses not far from here. I watched till his figure disappeared among the distant silhouettes. 

The silence was threatening; I couldn't hear him. His rifle had a suppressor, so I couldn't listen for gunshots either. He had left me in the dark, literally and figuratively, the only noise being the distant sounds of traffic and various street conversations carried to me by the wind.

"I hope he knows what he's doing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a little bit of a rush to get this one up, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or typos!! It's a little rough and possibly a little short as well, but hope y'all liked it! As always, lemme know how I did. ((( :
> 
> Update: Steven Ogg (Trevor's VA) will absolutely be at Walker Stalker this weekend oh my goddd the IRONY


	6. Enjoy the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No blood has been spilled! Yet.

Trevor arrived back to the helicopter a grand total of 45 minutes later. He was not covered in blood, however, he was obviously pissed off. He slung the rifle into the vehicle without a care, throwing himself onto the pilot's seat and pulling us into the air without a word. 

I tried to be silent, contain my curiosity or whatever but it got the best of me- as it always does. 

"So Trev... how'd it go?"

He closed his eyes and sighed in response, making a clicking noise with his mouth before answering. 

"Ya know what the definition of 'selfish' is?" 

I blinked. "Y-yeah... what about it?"

"Ya know what the definition of 'Michael' is?"

"Uhh," I stuttered out, "does it have a definition?"

"It does!" He cheered enthusiastically yet aggressively. "It is, and I _quote_ ," he paused to take a dramatic breath. 

"A complete and total egocentric, egotistic, egotistical, egomaniacal, self-centered, self-absorbed, self-obsessed, self-seeking, self-serving asshole," he jerked the helicopter aggressively into a new direction, appearing to have decided a change of route was in order. 

"Who may also be described as being inconsiderate, thoughtless, unthinking, uncaring, uncharitable; mean, miserly, grasping, greedy, mercenary, acquisitive, opportunistic, snake-like, pig-like, ass like... Agh!" He let out one final yell of frustration as the heli soared out over the sea. I stared at him blankly, waiting for him to continue his rant. 

"I can't believe I ever trusted that fucking dildo. And I let him walk free, again! He does not know just how fucking grateful he should be. He has no fucking idea just what a gigantic ass break he's caught, that fucking fuck. I swear to God I'm going to kill him one day. I'm going to rip out his teeth and make bullets with them." 

" _And,_ shoot him with them after?"

"Grade A fuckin' idea, Misty. I knew I kept you around for a reason. Fuck." 

It seemed rather obvious that was where he was going with the statement, but I chose not to voice that thought. Instead, I looked out onto the ocean, wriggling around in my seat. "We headin' back now, Trev?" 

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p' at the end slightly.

I sighed, shivering at the cold air hitting me. It hadn't bothered me quite as much on the ride _to_ , but the trip back had left me feeling a little uneasy to begin with. 

"Takin' a new route?" 

He nodded, still avoiding my gaze. "I'd like to avoid seein' that plastic fuckin' city for as long as I can get away with,"

It was my turn to nod. "Understood."

"And, besides," he said, kinda half-mumbling. "I'd rather you not get all panicky over there again. S'not fun watching you fight yourself while I'm trying to fly this thing,"

I smiled. "Fight myself, huh? That's a pretty accurate description, I think."

And so we sat in silence for a long while, me staring at him in curiosity as he flew with precision and expertise that still jarred me. Nothing about Trevor was professional or precise, per say... Except for this. He actually looked focused, attention glued to one thing- something rather uncommon from what I knew of him. As I watched him maneuver the chopper with a prowess that still amazed me, I wondered what was going on behind those light brown eyes, brightened intermittently by the glow of the waxing moon. _Where do your thoughts wander when your mind is at rest?_

I looked over at him, wishing I could rip myself free from the straps gluing me to my seat and crawl into his lap. I wanted to feel his warmth and his arms around me, protecting me from the chill and mystery of the night surrounding us. Dismissing the thought, I decided to inquire about something that had been plaguing my mind from the beginning of our adventure. 

"Trevor, what happened between you and that guy?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he appeared to ignore the question or at least act as if he hadn't even heard it to begin with; after maintaining silence long enough for me to all but forget that I'd even asked, he spoke up. "That guy? Mikey? That's my old best friend," he grunted, again avoiding looking at anything but the view ahead. "The one who faked his death." 

I frowned, tilting my head to one side as he continued. "Found the pig living in LS not too long ago; we worked together for a while before he proved, _yet again_ just how untrustworthy he is," 

He stayed silent for a few moments after that, but I knew better than to interrupt his quiet in efforts to pry for more details. He spoke up after several minutes. 

"He double-crossed me, angel. He fuckin' took everything we had, everything we were building, and he shoved it up my ass. He had a plot to fuckin' kill me, for God's sake!"

I stared at him, my eyes widening. _That man_ , I thought, _was going to kill Trevor?_

Trevor sighed heavily, letting annoyance slip through his voice. "But of course, he tries to pull it all together when I throw it in his face. 'It wasn't my idea, T, it was the FIB!', 'Calm down, T, we'll figure this out!', 'Put your dick away, T, now's not the time!'. Fuckin' jackass." 

I raised a brow in his direction, not totally understanding the meaning of his statement. "So, what... did you kiss and make up?" 

"No," he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously in the light of the night sky. "We're on an agreement of sorts. Got this one last job to take care of, then he's out of my life for good. He can go on sucking the FIB's dick all he wants, 'cause after this, I'm done. I got a business to run and a woman to please," He grinned at me wickedly as the last part of his sentence rolled off his tongue; I scoffed in response, blushing at his proclamation. I turned my head to look out onto the ocean, finding that we'd made it back to land. The lack of anxiety during the returning flight seemed to make it pass much more smoothly, that and the constant battle of staying awake. It was well after midnight at this point and I knew I had yet another shift in the morning; a consequence of never being able to turn down the opportunity to make a little extra when given the option. I sighed, searching for the lights of Trevor's hanger in the darkness of the night. 

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have at some point; I was shaken awake by Trevor's touch, prodding at my shoulder from the outside of the helicopter. 

Disoriented, I vaguely remember asking why he wasn't in the pilot's seat before he chuckled lightly and his hands went to work unbuckling me from the seat. I groaned in satisfaction as the belts fell from my body, savoring the feeling of freedom while Trevor scooped me into his arms. I threw my own around his neck, inhaling his scent as we approached his Canis. 

Just before he sat me down, I heard the unmistakable chime of my phone- most likely alerting me that my shift would be starting sooner than expected in the morning. As my bottom made contact with the worn leather seating, I set about rubbing the sleep from my eyes and digging my phone from my back pocket, where it had been nestled since leaving work.

"Fuck my _life_ ," I groaned, tossing my phone to the side and throwing my head into my hands. Trevor peered over at me curiously, pulling out of the hangar and onto the main road. "All good, sweetheart?" 

I muttered something incoherent, rereading the message that I'd been sent. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fucking fine. I need to get home and get some sleep, I have a double fucking shift tomorrow," 

He seemed unfazed by the statement, nonchalantly replying with, "So? Don't go in."

I turned to him, hoping that my eyes conveyed all of the emotion necessary to communicate to this man that _not_ going in was _not_ an option. "Are you joking?" 

He scoffed incredulously, as if the answer to such a question was completely obvious. "No? Sounds like they're workin' you to death over there, angel. Don't ya think ya deserve a nice break every now and then?" 

I pondered his statement, realizing that Trevor's mind worked very differently from my own... and I wondered if that was such a good thing, for either of us. "It's what pays the bills, Trev. The less _breaks_ I give myself, the better I eat that week." 

He glanced at me without turning his head, huffing softly in response. 

 

When his Canis pulled into the lot of my trailer, I was half asleep. The sound of his door slamming with a quick metallic _thud_ provided a decent enough calling to jolt me from my rest as I went about stretching my limbs and praying that I hadn't agreed to anything shameful in the brief amount of time I'd spent oblivious and in between worlds. Trevor helped guide me from the seat of his Canis to the door of my trailer, stopping outside of its threshold once I'd assured him that I _could_ make it to my bedroom without him.

"I reckon this is where I leave you," I smiled, not really knowing how to bring the night to a close. I moved to close the door, immediately feeling him catch it with his boot; I looked up to see a pained expression on his face, hurt creeping into his gaze. I'd only ever seen Trevor look so defeated once since I met him- _on_ the night that we'd met -and seeing such a broken frown etched onto him caused an ache in my chest that could not be described with words. I frowned, stepping back and releasing the door so that he could push through with ease. Rather than do so, however, he continued to gaze down at me with that sad look on his face. "You uh, mind if I... Stay here tonight?"

I glanced back and forth between him and his trailer, wanting so badly to invite him in but undergoing internal conflict when considering the possible consequences thereof. _That man was going to kill him. His own best friend._

I stepped away from the door, allowing him entry, which he eagerly accepted. Trevor advanced on me, immediately grabbing my face on either side and pulling it to his, kissing me with the same rigor and passion I'd received on the night we met. I wanted to let go, I wanted to lose myself, but his hands... weren't his. _It's Trevor. It's Trevor, Misty._

When I didn't respond to the kiss, he pulled away, the hurt on his face now tinted with confusion. "I'm sorry," I squeaked, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I... I'm just so tired after tonight, Trev. I worked all day, came face-to-face with a dangerous criminal, rode in a helicopter a few times-- it's been an exciting day, ya know?"

His eyes searched mine incredulously, a brow raising in doubt. "Yeah, I guess it has, angel," he muttered, running a hand through his thinning hair. 

I offered him a polite smile, closing the door that he'd left open behind him. I touched his shoulder lightly, hoping to provide him with some sense of comfort during what I imagined to be an extremely trying situation- even for someone so outwardly cold. As I made contact, he grabbed my hand and looked at me, the pain in his gaze having decreased ever so slightly. 

Without letting him go, I walked to my bedroom with Trevor in tow, only withdrawing my hand to remove a few layers of clothing before slipping into bed; the exhaustion from the day had begun to settle within me and creep into every sinew, bone, and nerve. I sighed, snuggling into my bundle of pillows before hearing the shuffle of clothes being removed and feeling the bed shift under Trevor's weight.

"Just please try and behave tonight," I mumbled, fighting the urge to sigh in relief as I felt his strong arms make their way around my middle and engulf me effortlessly. I heard him snicker, his grip on me tightening. "Can't make any promises, sugar," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. 

I really hoped that the nightmares would skip over me that night, but... I guess that'd be _too_ lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took forever to get up omgg. Went to Walker Stalker over the weekend and I met Steven Ogg and got really depressed afterward lmfao. Writing has helped a bit, though, so maybe I can pump more chapters out much more quickly. Also- I promise, Michael and Franklin will be making their appearances soon!!


	7. Heaving Through Corrupted Lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed regarding Misty's complicated love history... this chapter hit a little close to home for me, lol.  
> I'm sorry to anyone who can relate.
> 
> Sorry for all the italics, y'all. Trevor speaks with a lot of emphases and I'm a sucker for character-self dialogue.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, please let me know how I did! I may have overdone Trevor's aggressiveness in the bit at the beginning-- I hope I did the man justice. 
> 
> And thank you for the comments- they keep me goin'!

_His arms were chains around me, heavy and unyielding. I couldn't squirm for fear of upsetting him, however, so I simply laid and accepted my fate. I let his heavy hands roam my body, I let him dent my resolution, I let him break my mind. I didn't have to, but I let him._

_My heart pounded with uncertainty, racking my chest in uncomfortable fervor. It wasn't only fear- it was tension, it was anger; anger at myself for letting him sink his claws into me, anger for being too sorry to leave. His body was a furnace against my back, engulfing my chest in flame; but when his hand drifted to my throat, I just felt **so damn** cold._

_Lifeless._

_Numb._

_But I didn't want to be._

I struggled against his hold on me, squirming and fighting my way out of his grasp. His grip only tightened at first, prompting me to physically push at the chest I was pressed against. I felt my nails make contact with skin as he shoved me away, the hiss that followed causing my heart to drop as I fell to the floor. I scrambled to the wall opposite my bed, pulling myself into a sitting position and looking into the scowling face above me, absolutely horrified. 

"I-I'm... sorry," I stuttered, my voice small and trembling in the darkness of my room. The clock on my bedside table cast a dim glow, just bright enough to illuminate the hurt in Trevor's eyes as he peered down at me in confusion and disgust.

"Sorry?" He repeated, clearly not understanding the situation as it was. _How could he understand it, though?_ "Misty, what _the fuck_ was that?" His face grew even sourer with every syllable, a glint of sadness in his gaze causing my chest to constrict. _I hurt him._

"I-I didn't mean to--," 

He laughed aggressively, peeling the comforter from his body and moving to hop from his place on my bed. "You didn't _mean to?_ Ya didn't mean to claw your way away from me in the middle of the night? Ya didn't mean to push me away from you after I've been nothin' but nice to you all day?"

I wanted to dispute the last part, but I chose not to push it, instead trying one last time to explain myself. "Trevor, please, I was--,"

" _Sorry_ ," he repeated, shaking his head and grumbling to himself before turning to me and scowling. "Are ya, Misty? Are you _sorry_? What, did it _just sorta happen_? Ya just sorta remembered that I'm a gross, drug-riddled old man?" 

I furrowed my brows in response. _Is that what this is about?_ "Trevor, no! Of course not! I was having--," 

He cut me off again. "Second thoughts? Is that it? Second thoughts about this?" He gestured to himself and I, jabbing a finger into his chest and then waving it in my direction to illustrate his point. "About _us_? Can't say I'm fucking surprised," he growled, gathering the discarded clothes from only a few hours earlier and making his way to the door. 

I let my head fall into my hands, feeling tears pool in the corners of my eyes. _You couldn't let me have anything, could you?_

And so when the lump in my throat formed, I didn't fight it. I felt my shoulders rise and fall involuntarily with each contraction of my chest. I let my quiet sobs and high pitched squeaks fall freely, assuming Trevor had made up his mind for good. _You've lost him._

In one last-ditch effort to reclaim his affection, I called out after him, my voice cracking mid-yell. "Trev-or, please!"

The silence that followed was heartwrenching. 

Until the faint sound of a sigh caused me to jerk my head up and meet the questioning gaze of Trevor Philips, annoyance still plastered upon his face. 

We stared at each other for several minutes before he huffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Well?" 

"--nightmares," I mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. "I was having nightmares." I met his gaze just long enough to register the look of realization fall upon him before returning my sights to the floor, sniffling as he shuffled closer. "I'm so sorry, Trevor, I didn't-- I didn't know it was you... I was dreaming and I thought you were--," 

He slid down the wall into a sitting position next to me, throwing an arm around my shaking shoulder. He was avoiding my gaze but still pulled my head close to his, encouraging me to rest it on him as he held me. "It's no big deal," he said, forcing a nonchalant tone into his voice. I could tell he wasn't one for apologies, so I simply snuggled closer to his side and nodded before attempting to offer him an explanation-- I owed him that, at least. 

"My ex... he wasn't just a shitty person with questionable morals," I said, searching for his hand to occupy my own. "He... well, shit, he scarred me," I laughed, even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation itself. Finding Trevor's hand, I felt it tense as he finally met my eyes with a menacing scowl meant not for me. "Did he fuckin' hurt you? I swear to god--," 

I squeezed his hand, prompting him to let me continue. He got the message, letting me find my footing and resume my story. "Well-- in short, yes. More emotionally than anything else, though," I sighed, surveying the calluses of his hand. "He threatened to hurt me _physically_ all of the time, but he only ever actually did so... during sex."

I could see him raise a brow at the statement. "Was it agreed upon?" 

I closed my eyes, squeezing his hand again-- this time, for strength. "No," I squeaked. I heard Trevor stir next to me, felt his hand tighten around mine in response, and release a deep huff that could have just as easily been a growl. "I'm to blame, really," I sighed, "I should have spoken up the first time, I should have defended myself instead of just... taking it and letting him take it so far--," 

Something in my words ignited something in Trevor, prompting him to release my hand and turn his entire body to face mine, that same menacing glare returning. "You're to blame?" He growled, taking my shoulders in his hands. "You? You're blaming yourself for the bullshit that asshole put you through? Jesus, you're having nightmares about the guy, and this whole fuckin' time you've been blaming yourself? What the fuck did he do to you?"

I started to answer, only beginning to form a sentence before Trevor lifted a hand and silenced me. "Actually, ya know what? Probably better if ya don't tell me. If I go back to LS today, more than one person is gonna be payin' the price," he mumbled, leaving his declaration up to interpretation. 

I smiled weakly as he reclaimed his position next to me, this time pulling me much closer and with much more force.

"When I left, I didn't tell him about it," I sighed, reclaiming his hand in my own. "I just... Took off one day when he was out with his friends. It was kind of a last minute decision. I had been crying all night because he'd abandoned me for his friends, _again_ , and... I realized that I _dreaded_ having to share a bed with him whenever he'd be home. I dreaded having to see his face, feel his hands on me in the middle of the night, hear his fucking voice calling me those gross pet names that made me cringe... Leaving him was the best decision I'd made in a long time. I just fucking wish, more than anything else, that I'd done it sooner. Maybe then he wouldn't have affected me so much."

He didn't respond at first, simply watching as I caressed the scars of his hand, running my thumb over his tattooed knuckles. 

Trevor was... Terrifying. Inside and out. But he wasn't evil. I knew that from the moment I saw him, tears staining his face as he gazed at me with an expression so wounded, I felt actual pain. At that moment, all of the fear he ignited in me had dissipated, immediately and completely. He had suddenly become so... Human. He had been stripped of his rough exterior, all emotions and mortality exposed in front of me. If it weren't for that moment, there's no way I'd be sitting next to him right then. There's no way I'd be holding his hand, taking so much comfort from his presence... Thinking back to the Michael character, I also realized... there might have been no way for _anyone_ to hold his hand. Not that they would, anyway.

I squeezed his hand lightly. "I... dunno, Trev. It's over now, right?" 

He frowned, pulling me even tighter to him. "Yeeeahh... except it's obviously not, 'cause you're still dreamin' about the dick."

I laughed humorlessly, nodding. "Leaving the way that I did... I dunno, sometimes I regret it. But then again, I regret ever even considering hauling ass to Los Santos. I constantly have nightmares about him finding me, 'cause, well... he's got to be searching, right? It's not like you can just _miss_ the fact that your housemate straight up fuckin' ditched you," I explained, relying on gestures to emphasize my point. 

Trevor nodded in quiet contemplation, something welcome yet somewhat unexpected. Hadn't he anything else to say? No threats, no prodding for more information? I frowned. "'Guess I don't have anything to worry about now, though," I sighed, wrapping my arms around him lazily. "You wouldn't let him come after me, right, Trev?"

I heard him chuckle lightly, adding more pressure to his already tight hold. "Fuck no, angel. Not a goddamn chance."

 

Satisfied with my newly acquired guard dog, I had begun to doze off in his arms before a familiar buzzing caught my attention. "Fuck," I mumbled, pulling away from Trevor. "What time is it?" 

He didn't respond, instead slumping over with a snore as I pulled away from him. _Out cold._ Once separated from him entirely, I sighed and pulled my phone from my discarded jeans that lay in a heap along with my other clothes at the foot of the bed. The screen lit up with the time, 5:00 AM, as well as a Lifeinvader notification. Neglecting to read past the title of the app, I simply tossed the phone aside and stood up-- nearly tripping over Trevor as I made to walk to the bathroom. 

He, of course, stirred at the commotion and woke up with a jolt, immediately looking to his left hand as if expecting to find something there. Rubbing intently at his face, he muttered incoherently to himself before standing as well. "Where ya goin', angel?" 

"Gotta get cleaned up and caffeinated," I said, stretching my muscles with a light groan. "Gonna be a long day, ya know?"

Trevor, in turn, groaned much louder and with much more annoyance at the statement. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he neglected to react. "Why do you work so damn much, huh?" 

I scoffed. "Because I need money?"

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly. "I can give you that,"

"Trevor, wh-- no! I told you, I don't _need_ a sugar da--,"

"So work for me!" He exclaimed, stepping toward me and taking my hand in his. "Become an asset to Trevor Philips Industries! We could always use a friendly face for the company," he grinned wildly as if the proposition was just the solution we needed. 

But, still, I did not budge. "Why, Trevor?" 

"Because I have money and I want to give it to you."

"No,"

" _No?_ "

"No, Trevor, I will not work for you! What would I even do? What does a talentless college drop out have to offer for you and your business, exactly?"

He surveyed my face, eyes tracing me from my hairline to my lips. "More than you know, baby,"

I groaned and pushed past him, exiting the bedroom without so much as another glance in his direction. He stomped after me, catching me by my arm before I had taken three steps beyond the threshold. "So, work with me and the guys on this job I've got comin' up! We need a feminine touch, alright-- and the pay! You'll be richer than college ever coulda made ya!"

He responded to my skeptical scowl without missing a beat. "And there's no danger on your part, angel, I _promise_. I'll see to it personally!"

I sighed, my shoulders sinking as I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had started to cave. Glancing at Trevor one last time before tugging my arm from his grasp, I said, "That's... incredibly vague, Trevor. I've gotta get to work, okay? Like I said... money's tight and I've gotta pay my landlord after work today anyhow. Ya mind if we do this some other time?" 

He stared back at me with a slightly wounded expression, his eyes tinted with confusion. I could tell he didn't understand my reasoning, but I _hardly_ expected him to. I pulled him in for a hug, grazing his stubbled cheek lightly with my lips and thanked him softly. He returned the hug seconds after receiving it, but with much less force than I'd expected. 

After I'd pulled away and headed toward my bathroom, he called after me. "Wait-- your landlord. It's Ingraham, right? He owns all of the trailers on this lot, 'save for mine and Ron's?" 

"Yeah, that's him. Creepy ole' fella, but he's been nice enough to let me slip up every now and then without too much of a hassle. I'm behind already this month and I can't keep pushin' my luck, ya know?" 

He nodded, a little too enthusiastically; I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, but I quickly disregarded his look of contemplation as I excused myself and went about preparing for the day ahead of me. 

_I wonder what he's thinking..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man what's our boy up to?? find out sometime this week/whenever I get the chapter up!! love u all! love, love, loving the feedback-- it keeps the wheels turning, lol. thanks so much for all the love!!


	8. In Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yooo, our first Trevor-less chapter... well, sorta anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was almost completely written on my phone, so I apologize for typos. Thank you all for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated, helps me know I'm doing right by you all lol. Love you guys!

Once I'd left my bathroom that morning, Trevor was gone-- truck and all. The only sign of him having been around was the state of my bed sheets, tangled and hanging halfway off the bed on what would have been his side. Sighing, I adjusted the mess and moved on in my routine, slipping on some jeans and a black collared shirt-- the closest thing to a uniform someone in my position wore. 

The day that followed was rather uneventful. The night before had left me on edge- peering out into the parking lot expectantly, waiting for a flash of black and piercing blue eyes atop a well-tailored suit, but I had no such luck. The interactions of my day consisted of local drunks and a handful of passersby, but no sign of Mr. Trouble. I had just finished cleaning an "accidental spill" from one of our incredibly-too-inebriated-for-the-time-of-day regulars when my phone started buzzing frantically behind the counter. I hardly received phone calls, so the event itself had me rather suspicious. 

However, when my eyes scanned the caller I.D, my stomach dropped immediately. 

"Oh, hey, Mr. Ingraham. How can I help ya?" I muttered, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling fiercely in my chest. 

"Hey there, Misty, just callin' about the rent due today--,"

I cut him off, my patience effectively eroded by my frantic nerves. "Well, I'm still at work right now-- I can have it ready for you in a few hours if you'll stop by... Got kind of a long shift, I don't know what time I'll actually be gettin'--,"

"See now, that's what I'm callin' about, actually," the older man mumbled, seeming quite troubled, to be honest. I frowned, my head nearly spinning at the sudden increase in anxiety. 

_I'm afraid, I can't keep lettin' ya slide, Miss Applewhite._  
_I'm afraid I need a little extra this time to make up fer..._

The possibilities were bouncing around my head, reverberating as harsh reminders that my life is never quite as simple as 'work an extra shift! you'll have the money!'. 

Mr. Ingraham cleared his throat loudly. "I'm afraid y-your trailer, well... the property's been bought." 

As the sentence left his mouth, rage consumed every nerve that had not been occupied by my growing anxiety. _He sold my fucking trailer? Can he even do that?_

_What the hell am I going to do now? Go back to Georgia? No... I can't. Move in with Trevor? **No**. Can't do that either._

There was a shuffle on the end of the line, the faint sound of a background voice catching my attention. "Now, there is a lease in p-place... So this ain't me kickin' you out or nothin'," he stuttered, the shuffling becoming erratic and piquing my curiosity. I frowned. "So... what, I just have a new... you?" 

"Yep! Basically... yeah. He's a real to--," I heard a slight gasp on the end of the line, almost as if something had disturbed him to the point of shock. He quickly collected himself, however, and continued seamlessly. "Very nice man, ahem. As a matter of fact, he's lettin' you off free this go 'round! Yep, 'said he'll be in contact with you about future transactions at a later date!" 

I furrowed my brows. _This is crazy._ "Let me get this straight. Someone bought the property out from under me, ain't askin' me to move out, and I'm not givin' you 2/3 of my paycheck this evening?" Talking with Mr.Ingraham always caused my southern accent to peek through, his being extremely thick and reminiscent of home. I'd oftentimes wondered if he was from Bible Belt territory as well, but had never been interested enough to actually ask. 

"Yes, ma'am, that's the lot of it! 'Guess I won't be seein' you around for a little while... but don't worry, Misty, you'll like 'em. Real, uh..." He paused again. "...real reasonable."

"So... how do I contact this 'nice and reasonable' man? Surely, some of the policies of the lease have been compromised..." I trailed off, hoping Ingraham would pick up on my tone and its implication. The heavy sigh he released in response verified my efforts. 

"Yes, Misty, the no-pets policy has been lifted. You're free to house whatever animal you please now, no lip from me nor anyone else," the older man muttered. 

Practically squealing with joy, I thanked the man profusely before mumbling a highly-inflected "you take care now!" at him and ending the call. At that point, I was tempted to call off the other half of my shift, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to have the money... regardless, less of a reason for Trevor to poke and prod at me about my financial situation. 

_Trevor..._

_See? I don't need your little job! I'm fine, and I will continue to be! I have nothing to regret and everything's in bloom._

I hope. 

 

_That fuckin' smile always causes trouble. The little smirk that turns the edges of his mouth upward before he says something that's sure to make me blush or do something that's sure to change the atmosphere of the situation. I'd only known him for days, sure, but it was already such a familiar behavior-- that mischievous glint in his eye, that grin that made me feel things I hadn't experienced in years... not the way he made me experience them, anyway._

_He made me feel unsafe, in the best of ways._

_"You should have agreed to work for me sooner, sugar," he grunted into my ear, his long arms caging me in place, one on either side of my thighs as I sat facing him on his kitchenette countertop. He was dressed in his usual attire- tanktop of questionable cleanliness, baggy pants, and of course, donning that **goddamn** smirk. _

_I yelped as he quickly moved his hands to my knees, spreading my clothed legs open on the surprisingly sturdy surface and situating himself between them. Though both of us were fully dressed, the intimacy of the position caused a burning desire to accumulate in the pit of my stomach as he began slowly grinding into me. I bit back a moan, desperate to contain my arousal in secrecy as if he couldn't read me like a fuckin' book. "Y-yeah," I agreed, forcing indifference into my tone. "M-maybe, I should have..."_

_He chuckled darkly, one of his hands moving to tangle within my hair, pulling me closer to him with a sudden surge of his hips. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him lazily as his free hand roamed my body, over my clothes, inching closer to my center before stopping at the top of my inner thigh._

__

_"This'd be a lot more fun without these, ya know," he purred, lightly pinching at the material of my jeans, pulling it up and allowing it to snap back onto my skin with an audible pop. I sighed, pushing my hips upward in an attempt to close the gap he had then created. He allowed me that, at least, continuing his undulations as he caressed the fabric barrier of my thigh. I sighed, letting my resolve slip momentarily at the feeling of him, obviously just as aroused as I, pressing himself greedily against me._

_"Why do you have so much effect on me, Trevor?"_

_His movements stopped. I withheld a whimper at the sudden emptiness as he backed away._

_And kept backing away, slowly disappearing as I stared back in disbelief..._

" 'Scuse me, 'Miss," I jolted awake at the sound of a voice that definitely wasn't Trevor's. I lifted my head from the wall I had been leaning on, immediately disoriented by my surroundings. "Where'd Trevor go?" I mumbled, still in between worlds as the man before me tilted his head in concern.

"Trevor? Trevor Philips? I'd assume he's out terrorizin' hitchhikers or shootin' out satellite dishes for fun right about now," he chuckled, joining me behind the counter. The man was younger, probably only a year or two so than I. He was a taller gentleman, black hair joining dark brown eyes to complement a lightly tanned figure. There was a familiarity about his face but the twist in my gut urged me to let it go 'lest I worry myself to death over it. 

He introduced himself as Ryan, a fellow employee at the store; apparently, I'd fallen asleep sometime during my shift and he was offering to take over for me. "Oh, shit, yeah I think I've seen you around," I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I tried my damndest to gather myself after the impromptu nap I'd taken and the dream that had accompanied it. He chuckled again, shaking his head. "You're Misty, right? You oriented me here."

I furrowed my brows, the knot in my stomach beginning to loosen as the familiarity made more sense. "Oh... sorry, dude. The week I've had..." I trailed off, yawning quietly as the young man helped me to my feet. I'd fallen asleep on one of the rickety bar stools that wobbled if you looked at it funny, my weight supported by only the wall next to me. I hoped and prayed that my little beauty sleep wouldn't result in a bit of missing inventory, but I decided to let it be a worry for another day. Stumbling slightly, I stretched my muscles once on my feet and thanked the young man for his kindness, aching to be reunited with my bed...

_My bed... where I totally freaked out and pushed Trevor away from me._

Or my couch. Whichever.

Upon arriving home, I remained in a quiet state of contemplation regarding the day's events, finally exposed to being alone for what seemed like the first time in days. 

_So.. no more Ingraham, huh?_ It's not that I was disappointed with the news, **certainly not**... But he was rather nice. His accent, thick and pronounced, brought me back to my days in the south, surrounded by accents just as thick and just as welcoming. The thought of my past elicited an unexpectedly sad chuckle from me, accompanied by a wave of nostalgia that brought tears to my eyes. 

I missed home. 

When I'd departed from my ex, I wanted nothing more than to run to the welcoming arms of my mother... She had been there for me for all of my previous heartbreaks and tribulations; I was truly at a loss when I first suspected that things were going downhill between Warren and I. Although, of course, I was left to sit amongst the wreckage of my life instead-- left to clean up the mess of emotions and regret on my own. I held onto hope that I'd find my purpose out in the desert, maybe find a nice job or new circle of friends to depend on, but once I arrived at the musty old motel off of Grapeseed, I knew that all my hoping was for naught. And for the first time in my life, I was _truly_ alone. 

It wasn't as if I'd felt any less lonely upon my months with Warren... but at least I knew someone still loved me enough to want to sleep next to me, let their hands wander all over my body, and even _tell_ me they loved me on occasion. When I ditched him and hauled ass to the desert, similar to how I ditched my family and hauled ass to Los Santos, I gave up the one thing in my life that had... some kind of meaning. I didn't love him anymore, by the time I had left. But knowing, at least, that I had a purpose in someone's life... even if it was just an outlet for rage, a throat to wring, a hole to fuck-- well, I thought it would feel better to be useless than to be used. 

I was only kind of right.

"I gave up so much for you, you asshole," I whispered, tossing my keys onto the arm of my sofa before half-sitting, half-collapsing onto it. 

_I wonder what they'd say?_ My family, to find out nothing worked out for me after all... The last messages exchanged between my mother and I were, expectedly, full of choice words and rather cold on both ends. However, the entire final interaction itself ended on a single sentiment that had followed me from the plane to San Andreas to the cab to Sandy Shores: "I wish you the best of luck. You never did think you were this brave."

Nights like this were the worst. The ones that left me alone with my thoughts, my emotions, my regrets...

"A family. An education. A career. A fucking future--!" I let my head fall into my hands, my nails all but ripping into the skin of my face. The tears were falling freely at this point, accompanied by quiet but aggressive sobs that caused my body to jerk with each hitch of my breath. _This is what happens_ , I thought. _This is what happens when you're left alone. This is how it felt every night before Trevor..._

**Trevor**. Trevor had entered my life like a pot of boiling water pouring over me. He changed me, denatured my life, all in a matter of hours. His presence was so large, his life and its tribulations so completely and utterly different from my own that touching him made me feel as if I had entered another reality. Being close enough to him to very nearly _feel_ the danger that emanated from him was a new experience entirely. Thinking of this brought me back to a previous point I'd mulled over--

Trevor was dangerous, tempestuous, and (without a doubt) of questionable sanity. But he wasn't evil. He wasn't mean. He was rough, tough, maybe somewhat cruel on occasion, but I knew he wasn't evil. Or at least, there was some part of him that could still be saved, talked to, reasoned with. There was something about him that was inexplicably human; yet it was something that made him _real_. It was something you could reason with and relate to, maybe even (POTENTIALLY) fall for...

And it was intoxicating. 

My feelings for Trevor, at this point, were becoming increasingly complicated. _And that dream..._ I hadn't forgotten. I had _definitely_ not forgotten. I could practically feel him pressed against me, down to the warmth of his skin and his breath on my neck... I missed him. I actually _missed_ Trevor Philips. 

_But you won't let him touch you._

"Just another fucking thing you took away from me, you dirty 'ole bastard," I grumbled, finally lifting my head. I tore off the jacket that I'd lazily thrown around myself before leaving the store, balling it up and placing it beneath my head as I settled onto the couch. I ripped at the cord to the light fixture, doing all that was in my power to avoid getting up after reaching a semi-comfortable position on a piece of furniture that was _anything_ but. 

The first night I'd spent with Trevor... he had enchanted me. His presence took up so much space in my head, in my heart, that I'd forgotten _my world_ as it was. I'd forgotten everything except _how badly_ I wanted him. It was overwhelming, the urge to throw myself onto him, latch onto this man I barely knew and never release him. From the second he placed his hands on my waist, I knew that whatever was happening would be no one night stand. When he kissed me and I felt _his_ lips on mine, when he grunted into my ear and I heard _his_ voice, when he buried himself inside of me and I felt _Trevor_... 

I was hooked. 

_What's different now?_ I sighed, wriggling on the couch in an effort to regain some comfort. Was I scared? Did the adrenaline of the first night simply anesthetize me to fear, a fear that now has nowhere to hide? And then, there, for the first time, I admitted to myself... The only things truly in bloom were my feelings for Trevor Philips. And God help me, I knew I couldn't stop them.


	9. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor has a realization of his own. (Perspectives switched for creative purposes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of something different today! This is a short chapter, the events occurring the night of 'In Bloom' where Trevor has a realization of his own. I'd written this as a concept to help me develop the exact nature of their relationship and idk I'm just so pleased with how it turned out that I figured I'd include it. And poor ole Misty doesn't have much of a characterization going for her so I figured I'd use it as a chance to further introduce her character from an outside perspective. 
> 
> Anyway, a legitimate chapter is coming soon after this-- hope y'all enjoy!

It was early morning-- so early, Trevor hardly considered it morning. The sky hadn't quite started easing out of its darkness yet and the traffic between Blaine County and Los Santos was just beginning to pick up. Cars whirred past at varying speeds, some most certainly illegal; Trevor could hardly judge, however. He was leaning against his truck in the parking lot of a random motel, alongside Michael who was doing the same with just a little more apprehension to his posture. He was surprised, too, that Trevor had agreed to meet with him this morning without intention to strangle him and the man's lack of attempt thereof was still a bit alarming. So he stayed guarded, even as the subjects of most importance had been tackled at length; to stay on a friendly footing with his (ex?) best friend, he decided to bring up a more casual topic of conversation.

"So what do you see in her, man?"

Trevor turned his head toward him, the still-waxing moon above them casting a dangerous glow over his features. "Excuse me?"

"Ya know, the girl. What is it about her that's got you all messed up? All head over heels?"

"That's the love of my life, you're talking about, so fucking watch it--,"

"Ah, bullshit, T- every girl who smiles back at you is the love of your fuckin' life. She's not your usual... type, is all. She looks like she'd piss her pants any time she sees a gun and there's not a grey hair on her head; you gotta be like, what, 10? 15 years older than her?"

His words were beginning to eat on Trevor's nerves, making the idea of strangling him become more and more appealing. He swallowed back his violent inclination, for now, and replied in as cool of a tone as he could manage, "So she's fuckin' young! So what?"

Michael continued to press. _Per his nature_ , Trevor thought. "Young and clueless, T. Does she even know what you do in your free time?"

"Am I sensing jealousy, Mikey?"

He crinkled his nose at the suggestion, visibly unimpressed by Trevor's rebuttal. "Nah, she's... not really my type. Cute, though. In a... kid sorta way," 

"Oh, right, 'cause you're only into sticks from the Vinewood Hills with fake tits and sculpted noses. I like real women, Mike! And Misty," he paused, looking off into the distance dramatically. "She's real in all the right ways, all the right places," he grinned, letting his mind wander to those _places_ as he spoke. Misty, he had to admit, was a bit on the chubbier side in comparison to his past lovers- but shit, Trevor never went for conventional beauty anyway. She was charming as shit to him, but he knew good and well that's what Michael was referring to. 

Regardless, she never acted shy about her looks and he loved that; every inch of her, from her chubby waist to her thick thighs, felt amazing in his hands and she didn't have a problem guiding them all over her body on their first night together. She knew what she did to him and it only made him enjoy it even more. She had one of those heart-shaped faces and button noses that carried an air of innocence, with a light spattering of freckles- barely noticeable upon her olive complexion -to emphasize the effect. Her hair was brown, a color he used to find a tad boring, and perhaps a bit thinner than he might have liked-- wavy and perpetually frizzy due to her constant fiddling with it. In just the right light, however, he could spot hints of a copper/goldish color within each individual strand, and it made him forget all about how thin it was or how mundane of a color she wore it. Not that he gave much of a shit about that, to begin with. She cared about him. She cared and he _knew_ it, because she proved it to him when she went out of her way to knock the gun from his hands-- even though her assumptions of the situation were incorrect.

And her accent-- it could hardly be called a drawl. When she'd first spoken, it was undetectable; she must have learned to hide it after time in the city (he knew from experience that those fuckers could be relentless), but as she opened up to him in the hours following, she began to hide it less and less. It was a bit funny at first. He honestly had a hard time taking her seriously between her "ain't"s and constant double negatives, but it grew on him fairly quickly. Any time he'd mock her, which was often on the first night, he'd find himself loving the way her dialect sounded on his tongue. He didn't enjoy teasing her about it as much as he expected himself to; he'd always see that hint of a fire in her eyes that he knew all too well-- the _"don't talk about my fucking accent"_ glare he's had to throw out on numerous occasions. It touched a part of his heart, each time, that he'd forgotten existed. 

"I don't know, T. With Mrs. Madrazo, it was one thing-- you knew you'd wind up havin' to take her back eventually. Don't fuckin' look at me like that, you know it's true! Anyway, even if that weren't a factor, she _knows_ the life. And probably has for years. This girl? This fuckin' girl's got no clue what she's getting herself into. And this life... it just ain't for everyone, T."

Though Trevor _definitely_ wasn't a fan of the words leaving Michael's mouth, he couldn't bring himself to deny their validity. She was unaccustomed to almost every aspect of his everyday life and he had only introduced her to the very beginning... He can't lie to himself, he was expecting a much better reaction upon pulling her into the air with him. Seeing her freak out was bad news; it further confirmed what he should have already known to be true: she's not like him. She's not even like him when he was her age, she's not like him at all and he sure as shit wasn't going to condition her to be, despite how much easier she'd be to deal with.

_Bad thoughts, Trevor. Bad thoughts._

No... he couldn't do that to her. He would manipulate an entire horde of rednecks before he'd put her through that shit. As he told her that very first night, _he doesn't fix things_. He just breaks them until whatever was damaging them before doesn't even matter anymore. But he couldn't do that shit to her. Her problems matter. He wanted them to matter. He wanted them to matter so that he could take care of them his fucking self because no one as fucking angelic as Misty Applewhite, she who tried to save Trevor Philips, should suffer in such a way. People were typically so disposable to Trevor, but no one had ever tried to save him. No one had ever begged _him_ not to leave. 

_And I ain't leaving, Misty. You're too important._

He took a deep breath. "She saved me," he said with a shrug. Michael, having heard the story about three times that night, rolled his eyes. "It was a fake gun, T. You weren't fixin' to do shit,"

Trevor laughed humorlessly, his eyes wandering to the road ahead of them. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Mikey-- what with your, uh... lack of human emotion and all. But believe me," he paused, again taking a moment for dramatic effect. "She and that little fake pistol may have actually saved me. Or parts of me. I don't know yet."

"Yeah," Michael laughed, throwing his cigarette butt to the ground and putting it out with his shoe unceremoniously. "Me neither."


	10. Monsters and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, Trevor's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so damn long. This week is Thanksgiving and it's a bit harder than previous ones due to the loss of a close family member earlier this year. Alongside that, I've got finals coming up and shit's really goin' down this week, I reckon. ANYWAY, sorry-- maybe I'll get an update schedule one of these days lol. As always, thank you so much for reading and let me know how I did! Read end notes for a lil' question.

_So, he fucked over Trevor ten years ago and made him think he was dead. Trevor finds him living in Los Santos after all of that time, in that big ass mansion in Rockford Hills with that nice fuckin' car with dollar-sign rims, and he just... forgives him? And they start running with each other again, only for him to try to kill Trevor a few months later?_

_Something's not right. If he were going to kill Trevor, why not do it when his cover was blown? Why not do it ten years ago? I can't rightly say I would support anyone's reasoning for murder, but I do imagine if that a man were to have the dirt necessary to want to take Trevor Philips out of the game... the dirt is probably plentiful. Trevor would make sure of it._

_So why did he keep him around? Surely, he must have needed him for something... Trevor said they pulled a few jobs together, but he didn't specify what that meant. And you're not stupid, Misty. You know what Trevor does, you know what he is. You know why he has a closet full of guns in his trailer, probably enough to supply a small militia. You know why._

_**You know why.** _

_But what you don't know is... Why does Trevor have a fucking helicopter? His own airfield? His own... employee/Servant/random weirdo addressing him as 'Boss'? What, exactly, is this business of his that he keeps mentioning, why... Why does he keep offering you money? How much does he fucking have? How much does Michael have?_

_**Probably a lot after the fucking Union Depository.** Did he really do that on his own? You don't know the first fuckin' thing about robbing banks, but... it can't be that easy. _

_Nothing is adding up. At least... not the way Trevor explained it._

 

'Sore' does not begin to explain the various aches and pains I arose with the following morning. No amount of groaning or stretching would ease the pain in my muscles as I lifted myself from the makeshift bed, vowing never to bunk there again-- if I could help it. Aside from the staggering amount of pain I found myself in as I awoke, I was acutely aware of a rather alarming change-- the silence. The quiet. The lack of excitement. My past few days had been filled quite nicely with a healthy dose of spontaneity, especially upon waking up. The lack thereof was disappointing, to say the least. 

I knew the difference. It was Trevor. His presence so large and his personality so loud, all other aspects of my life and environment all but disappeared when he was around. It was addicting; the danger he brought into my life was a high I never expected to enjoy. The fear he instilled in me was sweet, satisfying, unlike anything else I had experienced. Warren never made me feel that way. The fear he instilled in me was torture. It was pain. It felt as though my heart was collapsing in on itself with every beat. I felt so small in his presence, I felt so insignificant. I felt unsafe. 

I used to think that was the only fear in the world, the kind that made you feel unsafe. But Trevor never made me feel that way. Unsafe, anyway. _Afraid, on the other hand?_

I sat up, raising my arms above my head and attempting to tug my body this way and that, hoping to achieve some satisfying _crack_ to relieve the tension in my muscles. After a few vain attempts at that, I gave up-- instead, rising to venture into my bathroom to survey the state of my sleep-ridden appearance after having made little to no attempt to prepare myself for slumber the previous night. I groaned as I made eye contact with my reflection; the little bit of makeup I had worn was smeared all to hell, my hair looked as though it had lost a fight with a feline, and I was about 95% sure I was getting a sty in my left eye. 

_I was doing so well..._

Waking up in such a state was once the norm for me. My departure from the city was rather sudden, warranting days' worth of paranoia and self-hatred, maybe even a bit of regret. I had to relearn how to live, I had to accept my new life which was neither anticipated or welcome. Every night was filled with the same mantra, the same feeling: _This isn't how it's supposed to be._

It was never supposed to be this way.

Refusing to lament over it any more than I had already done, I groaned and tugged a makeup wipe from the dispenser and scrubbed at my face till it was red and raw. I knew it was unnecessary, but I was angry-- angry at myself for caring so much, for letting myself fall back into old behaviors, letting myself get close to Trevor Philips... ugh, for everything.

When I felt as though my face would bleed if I didn't let up, I stopped with the intensive scrubbing and slammed my hands against the sink in front of me, needing something to relieve the tension in my head. I threw the wipe down and raked my hand through my hair, wincing as it caught every tangle and made my scalp burn. I didn't stop, though. I kept tugging, I kept pulling until the pain was too much to bear. Long brown hairs littered the sink by the time I finished-- I felt crazy. I felt angry. I felt as though I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, so desperate to save myself from the ledge that all I could do was scrub and pull and strip until I stood naked in front of the mirror. My bathroom door wide open, vulnerable to any wandering eyes... Having forgotten this, I jumped at the voice that sounded from my front door-- well, the window beside it. 

" _Good lord, what a sight_ ,"

I turned to face him, feeling my cheeks erupt in heat as I did so, making no effort to cover up. "Trevor, what... Why are you here?" 

He flashed me a toothy grin, taking a few steps closer to me. "What, _now_ I need an invite to break into your house?"

"Well, a warning would have been nice. This isn't exactly the _best_ of times," 

"Hm, I disagree with you there," He growled, coming to a stop at the door of my bathroom, leaning against the frame. "'Seems to me like I've caught you at a _great_ time."

I blushed, moving to cover myself-- he stopped me, though, advancing on me and grabbing my wrist as I brought my arm up to cover my breasts. He leaned in to kiss me, but I stopped him. He was covered in dirt and grime from head to toe, having tracked it through my house. I pressed a firm hand against his chest to stop him in his tracks as he looked down upon me with a confused expression. 

"Nope," I said, "not until you shower. You're covered in shit, Trevor, where have you been?"

He snickered, "Am not! Just dirt this time, hun."

Sighing, I tugged on his shirt, discolored by whatever filth he'd managed to cover himself in. "Off," I commanded, smiling when he lifted the shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. It seems he'd caught on- for the most part -after that, setting about removing his boots and the remainder of his clothing before we both stood naked before each other. I blushed at the sight of him, just as handsome as he was on our first night together, standing in front of me unbothered by his nudity. I collected his clothing from the floor and left the bathroom, hearing him tread behind me. I turned on him, holding a finger up in his direction. "Ah! No, start the shower. These are being washed, like now. God knows how long it's been since they've seen a cup of detergent."

Trevor merely growled, returning to the bathroom with the posture of a scolded child. I laughed to myself, shaking my head at the prospect of him actually submitting to me in such a way. I hadn't quite gotten him figured out, but I sure as hell was having fun doing it. I heard the shower kick on in the bathroom as I walked to my laundry area, throwing Trevor's interesting bundle of clothes into the machine. His presence was so welcome, I wasn't bothered by the task at hand. Having to wash clothes for a man wasn't necessarily on the list of things I enjoyed doing, per se, but... Trevor had me doing lots of things I never thought I'd _want_ to do. This being one of the most, if not THE most mundane of that category, I didn't mind. 

When I returned to the bathroom, he had only gotten the water started. He still stood there, arms crossed over his chest, gazing at the doorway expectantly. I was surprised by his lack of protest in the matter but I quickly realized his motive when he approached me and took me by my arms, pressing a passionate kiss to my lips. Though I enjoyed the embrace (thoroughly) I was acutely aware of the grime that still clung to him from wherever he'd been before deciding to visit me. I tugged my arms from his grip, bringing them up to close around his neck before using the position to guide him into the shower. He laughed into the kiss as he stumbled backward into the cascading water, wasting no time in letting his hands wander my body, caressing my slick curves with a firm grip. "Fuck, I think I love you," he murmured as I pulled away, bringing my own hands to the sides of his face as I stared into his brown eyes. I saw no lie, no hesitation in his gaze, yet I still chose to ignore the sentiment as his mouth curled into a playful smirk. 

The water had successfully washed away most of the residual dirt that covered him, not that I really minded at that point. I pulled him into me for another kiss which he happily accepted, wasting no time in pushing his tongue into my mouth and getting a bit more handsy. His hands traveled from my sides down to my ass, grabbing it in greedy handfuls as he groaned into my mouth. I hummed in contentment as he backed me into the wall of the shower, his arousal becoming harder and harder to ignore (pun intended) as he pressed himself closer to me. The water above us came down in a pleasantly hot cascade, although partially obscuring my vision. It was when he parted my legs to grind against me that the spiral began. I fought to maintain my composure, I held Trevor's hair in a vice grip as I fought to keep the taste of _him_ in my mouth. _It's Trevor. It's Trevor._

He moaned into the kiss as my grip tightened, bringing a hand up to massage my breast. I winced at the sensation, unable to retain the feeling of Trevor attached to me. His presence may have been the one enveloping me, but his face was not the one on my mind. Without thinking, I grabbed his wrist before he could grope me properly, whispering a soft "stop" against his lips. 

And he did. Immediately. His grip loosened, he pulled away and dropped his hands, staring back at me with a hurt expression. _"What?"_

I was hyperventilating, my chest heaving with every exasperated breath. The water, as hot as it was, suddenly felt as if it were below freezing against my back. I responded to his gaze with a pitiful frown, sinking to the floor of the shower as I looked up at him. "I'm so sorry, Trevor," I whispered, letting my eyes fall to the floor.

I couldn't see his face nor gauge his expression. I could tell, however, tell by his body language that he wasn't upset, just... Hurt. Hell, I would be, too. 

"I'm so sorry," I repeated, burying my face into my hands. My heart began to calm as the visions faded. _I'm here. I'm here. I'm here._ I tried to talk myself down, I tried to forget, but the thoughts weren't slipping easily. I hurt him. Again. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"I'm so fucking sorry," a third time's the charm, I suppose, except this time... Something shifted. I felt a warmth that wasn't there before, something... Close to me, something foreign in my personal space. 

It was Trevor, kneeling next to me in all his naked glory, his face mimicking a look of concern and irritation. I didn't blame him for being irritated. Hell, I'd be irritated too, if someone I poured my heart out to had suddenly decided they didn't want to touch me. The thought of what I was doing- or could be doing to him -made my heart ache. 

Without looking up, I kept speaking. "He wasn't nice, Trevor," I half-whispered. Not on purpose, I just felt... Almost embarrassed to even mention it. I was embarrassed because I let him get to me. I let him fuck me up this badly. 

_I let him._

"He damaged me in ways I didn't know I could be damaged. I feel like his prints are all over my body. When I kiss someone, I remember the way he'd kiss me after calling me fat and laughing at me all night. When someone holds me, I remember the way he'd pull me to his body and all but strangle me if I pulled away too soon for his liking after sex. I remember all of the little things he did to make me feel like less of a person. And more than that," I sighed, finally picking my head up, but still avoiding his gaze. "I still feel like less of a person. I'm so sorry." 

The water from the shower, still pouring down over me, numbed me from the sensation of my tears. I don't know when I started crying, but I was. Trevor was surprisingly responsive to this, taking a moment to drape his arm over my still shoulders. After a moment, he grumbled something incoherent and pulled me into his wet chest completely, whispering a soft "It's okay," into my thoroughly damp hair as he did so. 

He stood up before me, pulling me to my feet with him. When I noticed the lingering conflict in his gaze, I felt the distinct urge to compensate for my actions. This man, standing naked before me, had put up with so much shit from me. I was positive he'd put bullets in brains for far less than cockblocking him and yet, here he stayed. And I loved him for it. 

_Wait. Love?_

"I'll do it," I whispered, pushing myself closer to him, taking his rough hands in mine and placing them on my hips. Trevor raised a brow at me, his grip on my hips not quite taking. "Misty..."

I slid my hand down his front, my fingers dancing upon his slick skin before stopping just before his groin. "I'll do it for you, okay? I...," With my free hand, I took one of his and placed it gingerly over my breast. "I lo--,"

He growled, his free hand catching my wrist that hovered over this pelvis and his other hand jerking away from my body completely. He took a step back, staring at me with an expression not dissimilar to disgust. My heart ached within the confines of my chest. _What did I do this time?_

"Misty, what kind of fucking animal do you think I am?" He snarled, glaring at me with misplaced disappointment. 

I gawked at him, my wrist still frozen in the vice grip of his hand. "What?"

He huffed. "Why the fuck would I make you do that, Misty?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

His expression of disappointed and confusion stayed put. "Do something... _anything_ that you don't want to do. Jesus, Misty, I'm not a fucking monster."

I frowned. _I know someone who is, though._ "You're right," I whispered, taking a tentative step closer to him as his grip on my wrist loosened considerably. I walked to him until our skin touched and I could feel his warmth emanating even through the now lukewarm water that poured over us. "You're not a monster." I returned my arms to their place situated around his neck, losing myself in his embrace as his own arms encircled me. I melted into his chest, pressing myself as close to him as I could manage. I felt his grip tighten along with mine. 

"If I ever see that prick, Misty, I swear to God, I'm going to kill him."

I chuckled lightly, still clinging to his wet figure. "I couldn't ask you to do that," I replied, only half-joking. 

"I know you couldn't. But I might just do it anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1.) Okay, so, this story has gotten a LOOOT more attention than I ever expected it to-- and I'm beyond grateful for that, btw. I promise things are going to start picking up and I just have one inquiry for you all: I keep my main tumblr rather multifandom so I don't tie the two together, but I'm curious as to whether you all would like to have some kind of social media tie-in with this story? Ya know, where I can notify about updates as well as relentlessly reblog GTA and OC related content because I stan this story too y'all lol. Lemme know what ya think.
> 
> 2.) For fellow Steven Ogg stans: I've had a little draft on the backburner for a while that's a pretty lengthy Simon (The Walking Dead) oneshot. Would anyone be interested in reading it if I posted it here? It's semi-explicit, kinda has the same feel as the oneshot that inspired this story. I've been getting back into TWD and ugh Simon is just. The best. Anyway, again, lemme know! Thanks for reading this long ass note!


	11. The King of Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHAT?? rackie's UPDATING??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the semester is over and I no longer feel as if I have a purpose 
> 
> anyway, here's a new chapter lol. I tried to tap into the softness Trevor seemed to have reserved for Patricia and will likely expand upon that in future chapters. For now, here's this piece of work!
> 
> please leave me a comment if you're enjoying this story!! it really does help with the writing process. : ')

"I guess I'm just... surprised, is all."

Trevor sat on my couch, naked but donning a pair of women's sweatpants that he insisted fit _just fine_ although ran quite short on his long legs. Still having to stifle a chuckle at his appearance, I continued my thoughts as he merely gazed at me with a distant expression, as if he were trying desperately to figure something out. 

"Ya know... that you've put up with all of my bullshit."

"What bullshit?" He replied, taking up a defensive tone a little too quickly. 

I stopped mid-stride, having been approaching him from my bathroom. _There's no way this is just going over his head. Does he really not mind?_

"I... I'm damaged, Trevor. It's affecting you now, and I guess I just didn't peg you as the type of guy to put up with it," I shrugged at the end of my sentence, although I was _desperately_ hoping he wouldn't take offense to the statement. You never could tell with Trevor Philips.

"I'm not _putting up_ with anything," he growled, leaning forward on the sofa. "You're dealing with your own shit right now. What, you think I'm mad 'cause you ain't having sex with me? 'Cause lemme tell ya, doll, I _know_ you want it. I see it in your eyes--,"

I cocked my head and laughed quietly at the proclamation. 

"--but you're going through some shit. I understand that, I'm the king of shit. Emotional shit, literal shit-- it's all fitting. My aesthetic, if you will."

I raised a brow, coming to sit across from him on a nearby loveseat. "Trevor Philips has an aesthetic?" 

"Trevor Philips _is_ an aesthetic, sweetheart. I'm one of a fuckin' kind," he grinned, relaxing into the couch once again. I shook my head at him, grateful that he wasn't offended by my amusement. He was actually smiling when I looked up at him again, but the expression didn't last very long upon his features. Rather, the shrill chime of a cell phone wiped it clean off his face. Groaning, he waved a hand dismissively when I stood up to retrieve it from where I'd left it in my laundry room (more like laundry _corner_ , but you get it). "It could be important!" I replied. "You _are_ a businessman, right?" I couldn't help the grin that fell upon my face as I said it, quietly amused by Trevor's mixed reaction.

"Yeah, you could fuckin' say that," he grumbled, extending a hand to snatch the phone from my hand as I held it out to him. I rolled my eyes at the action, reclaiming my position on the loveseat as Trevor glanced at the screen of the device. Upon reading the I.D., he furrowed his brows and brought the phone to his ear, answering it with a loud groan followed by a barely comprehensible 'what?'.

I cocked my head, watching the extremely animated phone conversation unfold. 

" _No,_ I haven't forgotten about the _thing_ ," he snapped, growing increasingly annoyed. A small period of silence ensued after, though I could just barely hear a voice barking into Trevor's ear, unable to make out any words. "The one in Sandy Shores?" Trevor replied with a scoff. "Un-fuckin'-likely. What about that big one out on West Eclipse Boulevard?"

Another pause. "Figures, that fuckin' prick. Alright, Wheels, when'd ya wanna move on this?" 

As I watched, his face screwed up into a disgusted frown at the words of whoever was speaking to him. "Oh _really_? Fine, I'll take the time out of _my_ day to clean up _his_ fuckin' mistake, _again_. But you tell him he can take his apology and shove it right up his--,"

He ripped the phone from his ear, glaring at the "call ended" screen. "They're all assholes. 'Don't know why I even try," he mumbled, tossing the device to the side. Finally meeting my gaze, his eyes softened considerably.

"Was it business?" 

He rolled his eyes, twisting his body so that his back rested against the arm of the couch and his legs spread out in front of him on the cushions. The action caused me to relax, probably visibly, a considerable amount of tension leaving my body as I saw him settle in. The simple maneuver, to me, meant that he had no plans on leaving quite yet-- and for some reason, the idea of being in his presence filled me with an inexplicable amount of joy that I didn't quite understand. Chalking it up to a passing emotion, I shrugged it off and instead focused on the way his eyes were exploring the pictures adorning the wall of my trailer. I didn't own very many, having been able to bring so few belongings with me when I left Georgia, but I did think to grab an armful of frames to remind me of life before. The life before that had unexpectedly become known as _much_ better times. 

"That you? With the first aid kit and that gold thing around you?" He asked, gesturing lazily to an 8x10 of me and my childhood best friend posing in front of our high school on the night of graduation. She and I both wore the standard black gowns, only mine was accompanied by a second stole of vibrant gold with the word "HONOR" printed diagonally across it. I smiled at the picture, usually never paying the framed moment any more than a passing glance. It was probably one of my favorite pictures of her and I together; we hadn't been so happy in one place together since that night. 

"Yeah, it is," I sighed, adjusting so that I could face the frames as well. "She badgered me all night about holding up those props. I thought she'd pass out in joy when I finally said yes," I laughed, referring to the first aid kit clutched tightly in my right hand, held high above my head. She mirrored the pose, but with a vintage-style camera proudly held overhead. I could tell he wasn't quite putting the images together; hell, I was surprised he was even asking about them. I was secretly pleased, however, that he was expressing any degree of interest in my background and I didn't want to neglect the opportunity to get to know him a bit as well. 

"From there, I wanted to go to medical school," I explained. "She wanted to go into photography. It had been the plan for a while, though I think she always kinda resented me for _actually_ settling for science instead of going into art with her. She always insisted it's where I belonged, but..." 

"You did what _you_ wanted to do," he finished, his voice surprisingly understanding. Frowning a bit, I simply nodded in response. Was I supposed to feel guilty about that? 

"Did you really do it?" He asked, catching me a bit off-guard after having spent a moment immersed in my own thoughts. "Sorry?" I replied, disoriented. 

"Go to med school, like you wanted," he asked, his eyes searching mine intensely, a thought obvious within his caramel gaze. I could almost see the gears turning in his brain as he stared in wait of a response.

"Oh," I frowned, a wave of repressed memories slamming into me like a freight train. _Fuck, why'd he have to ask that?_ "Y-yeah," I replied shakily, shifting my focus to the floor rather than the images hung upon the wall. "I've got an interesting medical history under my belt," I sort of mumbled, surprised when he actually heard me.

Suddenly rather intrigued, he crossed his arms over his bare chest and leaned forward as if trying to listen more intently. "Oh yeah? Tell me about it."

I furrowed my brows; it had been so long since I'd even given my college years more than a passing thought, the reminder of my failure being far too painful to experience over again.

_It wasn't a failure, though. You just gave it all up._

"I, uh... Shit, I spent about four years in University, I was well into medical school when _it_ happened," I explained, being as vague as I could. I didn't want to relive the experience, but I wanted to appease Trevor. He seemed so interested in this area of my life, though I couldn't quite understand what intrigued him so much. It didn't appear to be a casual interest, judging by the way his eyes seemed to narrow with each word. 

"So, you're good with that kinda shit? Medical stuff?" 

I turned to him, my face mirroring the confusion I felt. "Yeah, I guess? I'm no doctor, really, but I guess I could hold my own in a medical setting if I needed to?" 

A wild grin spread across his face, his body relaxing into the furniture once more. I didn't feel relief at the action this time, however, just an ever-growing knot of apprehension in my stomach. "Why are you so interested, Trev?" 

He was unfazed by my question, only shrugging in response, the grin suddenly leaving his face. "No reason, babe. Nothing for you to worry about right now." 

_Right now?_

"O-okay..." I responded, sinking into the loveseat with a sudden fatigue. Showers always left me a little jaded, even if I've only just woken up. Put me in the shower and all of the sleep my body may have received the night before might as well be nonexistent. It didn't help, of course, that I'd barely gotten any rest on that tattered disgrace my landlord passed off as a "sofa". I suppose you can't be too picky regarding a pre-furnished trailer for rent, though. 

All of that taken into account, I could do little more than simply turn my nose up when Trevor moved over on the couch and vaguely gestured for me to join him. I shook my head, pointing at the movable and frowning. "That thing was _hardly_ comfortable to sleep on by myself, I don't think adding another person to the mix will make it any more enjoyable."

He raised a brow at the statement but didn't badger me, shifting so that he was laying on his side facing me.

I did my best to mimic his position on the loveseat; although I was short, I wasn't _so_ short that stretching across a two-cushioned seat was an easy feat. The most comfortable recreation I could manage resulted in my head halfway propped up on the armrest with my legs bent at the knees while lying on my side. There was amusement in Trevor's eyes as he watched me, clearly trying to match his choice of pose. 

"What's funny?" I snapped, annoyed at my inability to achieve comfort within my own home. Trevor raised his brows at my sudden aggressiveness, replying in an overtly faux-naive tone, "Oh, _nothing_."

As he settled in, the edges of his mouth curling into a smirk, there still remained that look of slight bemusement. "Misty, I'm... Sorry you're going through that shit," he said, pointing to his temple in an animated fashion. The gesture brought a smile to my face, but Trevor wasn't done speaking. "I know I'm... intense. Most people probably would _not_ have stuck around after me breaking into their house, let alone allow me to do it a second time...,"

"But here we are," I interjected, laughing a little.

He smiled a bit wider at that, a twinkle in his eye. "I can tell that you aren't most people. And I mean that in the _least_ cliche way possible." 

I laughed again, this time with a bit of sadness. I hoped he didn't notice it, though. "Yeah, well... Most people have something to live for, I guess." I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. 

Trevor frowned suddenly at the statement, opening his mouth to speak but being interrupted once again by the chime of his cell phone. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he grumbled, all but ripping the cushions from my sofa in an effort to find the electronic. Upon locating it, his frown advanced into a downright _scowl_ at the I.D., and I could tell he was fighting the urge to simply ignore it. 

On what _had_ to have been the call's very last ring, he answered. "Trevor Philips Enterprises!" He bellowed, voice dripping with faux excitement. "How can I help ya, you treacherous son of a bitch?" 

I sat up from my relaxed position, settling for a sitting position as I watched yet _another_ animated conversation unravel. The voice on the other end was much clearer this time, and I could actually make out his words. The accent that fell upon my ears immediately took me back to two nights ago, the stranger at the counter, the impromptu helicopter ride with Trevor, and the thoughts that were rattling through my head this morning. 

_They must have made up, then._

_**Yeah, fuck you too, Trevor. Listen, we gotta take care of that thing tomorrow, have you found someone?** _

Trevor scoffed, shooting me a glance. "What? No small talk for your old friend Trevor? Typical Michael. It's all business 'till you impregnate a stripper!" 

I heard a long sigh on the other end of the device; the man, _Michael_ , had obviously heard it all before. I believed it. _**Listen, man, we don't got the time for this shit. Didja find someone or not?**_

Trevor threw another glance my way, this one longer and a bit... scary, to be honest. There was something in his eyes that put me on edge yet excited me at the same time; there was something in his eyes that told me my life was about to change because of him. Again. 

"Yes, Michael. I _found_ someone. I think we got our girl."

_Oh god._


	12. May I Waste Your Time, Too?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! been dragging ass on this story for a number of reasons; part of me is a little unmotivated by the lack of response, but that is in no way me badgering you readers for comments bc I knooow that is a major turn off for a lot of folks. but, if you enjoy this story and you’d like more regular updates (cause I have NOT forgotten the plot I’ve laid out for it), it would motivate the hell outta me to get some feedback. constructive criticism is welcome, especially considering we’re due for some smut soon and I struggle with writing those scenes a lot.
> 
> also, I heard that typing stories out in Comic Sans font increases creativity and productivity so I’ma try it and let y’all know how that works out. 
> 
> Edit: I've found that Garamond is much more effective in this regard.

Eventually, Trevor had to excuse himself on account of business; I didn’t mind much, having gotten my fill of his presence after an incident involving a flare gun and the poor unsuspecting pizza boy who did _not_ leave with a tip, unfortunately. 

Unless you consider escaping Trevor Phillips (mostly) unscathed a tip, which you very well may.

I didn’t watch him leave, though. I bid him goodbye with a kiss that lasted just a second too long for my liking and a second too short for my aching heart, all the same; then, he was off. I heard an engine in the distance and the cries of a few coyotes and assumed him gone, at least for a few hours. I couldn’t nap, still hesitating to enter my bedroom, and the sudden onslaught of rain about an hour post-Trevor’s-departure rendered the prospect of leaving my trailer rather undesirable. So, then, I took to curling up on the wicker sofa on my front porch while watching the world around me grow more and more sullen with the sudden appearance of rain. 

I thought about the phone call. I thought about the way his eyes locked onto mine, his sinister grin throwing my stomach into a tightly wound ball of nerves at the mere prospect of being at the center of his shenanigans. This isn't what I wanted from a partnership with Trevor, but I guess it's what I should have expected. I tried not to dwell on it, though; surely, if something were to happen tomorrow, he'd give me more of a heads up… wouldn't he?

But more than that, I thought about the shower. I thought about the look of disgust he'd given me when I reached out to touch him, the vice grips he'd caught me in, the way he glared at me as if he'd rather kill me then and there than take advantage of me in such a way. That, too, I tried not to dwell on. 

I thought about the sentiment that almost fell from my lips so easily, how natural it felt for me to let myself _feel_ something for him, how right it felt to say it… but did I actually? I don't think so. I hadn't felt something for someone in so long, I thought even the simplest connection was far out of my reach but he'd proven me wrong on that point. Or so it would seem. I turned my attention to the sun, as most optimists would encourage me to do, but it was setting; dipping low enough into the sky that its glow was fading into nighttime. The desert would soon grow cold and I’d be forced back into my home for warmth, physical warmth anyway. _Why me, Trevor?_ I thought, watching a coyote pup tail after its mama in the distance. _Why recruit me into your world?_

I could see into his yard from here, but I tried not to focus on it. That man was there; Ron, I guess. He was pacing, it looked like, wandering back and forth with something in his hands. I couldn’t tell nor did I really _care_ what it was, exactly, but he was fixated on it almost to the point that anyone could sneak by without his noticing. It was astounding to me how vulnerable Trevor left himself, his belongings, his people… Almost as if he knew no one would bother it. No one would disturb it because it was _his_. People are scared of Trevor Philips. 

Why aren’t I? 

Why does his gaze, his dangerous smirk only ignite intrigue within me? Why does his presence, his touch instill in me a sense of comfort, of safety rather than… well, fear? 

Can he tell that I feel this way?

My thoughts were interrupted there, however, by the rumble of a familiar engine in the distance; Trevor was coming home. And from what I could tell, perched on my wicker seat, he wasn't alone. A black sedan followed him, driving quickly enough to keep up with Trevor's every spastic move in practiced synchronization; it was almost as if whoever was following him had been doing so for years. 

_Michael._

He wasn’t alone, though. When they’d stopped, in _my_ driveway, I noticed, another man had gotten out of the Sedan alongside Michael. None of the three men had noticed me, though, as they left their vehicles and approached my home. As they came closer, I caught the tail end of Michael and Trevor’s bickering. 

“... I just don’t know about this, T.” 

“She’s perfect for it! All we need is a little _distraction_ , someone who can blend in! Lester’ll be on the line the whole time, we’ll be golden!” 

“Does she even know about this?”

“She’ll be fine!” 

I furrowed my brows as the conversation drifted closer. At every mention of this “she”, my stomach felt heavier and heavier, almost to the point that I felt sick. This became especially problematic when I realized they were _in_ my yard, Trevor at the front of the crew, smiling wildly as he bounded up my front steps. “Sugar!” he called, throwing his arms around me. “How’ve ya been?” 

Smiling weakly at the two men frowning behind him, I did my best to pry him off of me. “Trevor,” I responded, noticeable weakness drenching my tone. “Hey.” 

He was oblivious, of course, keeping me locked within his strong arms. He smelled slightly of blood and metal, a deadly combination that _must_ have been new. I cringed at the smell- or, rather, the way it didn’t bother me at all as it engulfed me. 

“Trevor,” I said into his ear, finally getting him to meet my gaze. “What is this about?”

He looked at me then as if, for the first time, he was considering the possibility that I wasn’t on board- or wouldn’t be, rather, once he’d actually disclosed to me what was happening. His brows furrowed and his mouth opened and closed slowly, but in succession as if he were searching for the right words but fell short. His eyes fell to where my hand gripped at his forearm, gently but with purpose, urging him to hear me. He found his composure, then. “Job opportunity,” he said, a shrug and a smirk accompanying his admission. 

The men behind him exchanged concerned frowns before one of them- Michael -stepped forward. He sighed. “Alright, why don’t we discuss this inside?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, then, almost at once forgetting the danger of the men that surrounded me and the dire nature of the situation itself. “Did you just invite yourself into _my_ home, sir?” _I already didn’t like you, Michael._

The man seemed a bit stunned by the response, raising a brow at me as Trevor let out a wild cackle at my side, tossing an even tighter arm around me than the one before. “C’mon, sugar, we got things to discuss.” 

Not wanting to argue, I stood and walked forward, not bothering to hold the door for any of the three men trailing behind me. I flicked on the overhead light, watching as Michael and the man I’d never met took their respective seats on the couch while Trevor plopped down onto the loveseat across from it, wrapping a muscular arm around my waist to pull me down alongside him. Admittedly, the action calmed me down a notch, prompting me to smile thinly in his direction before he spoke up. 

“Alright, now that we’re all in the same boat, we should probably--," Trevor started, his thumb rubbing deceptively soothing circles into the fabric of my shirt. He was cut off by Michael, who sat leaning forward, laughing quietly before calling his old friend out. 

"Don't do that, T," he said, rubbing at his temples. "Tell her." With that, Michael thrust his hand in my direction, gesturing to me vaguely. I raised my brows in confusion and turned to Trevor, who was staring daggers at the two men across from us. 

"Tell her what?" He snapped with a jolt forward that brought me with him slightly, jostling me and causing me to feel a little less safe in the arms of the man whose touches had been loving only seconds prior. 

"Don't drag her into this shit and then feign innocence," he bit in response, scowling. I wasn't sure how I felt about this man I barely knew coming to my aid, but then again, I wasn't sure _how_ he was aiding me, to begin with. 

"Trevor," I frowned, pushing him away from me slightly. "What's going on?" 

"What's going on is that you're dating a psychopath," Michael groaned, still glaring at the man beside me. 

I scoffed at that, the atmosphere of my tiny trailer suddenly feeling stuffed to the brim with conflict. "Dating?"

Trevor's grip on me returned, a rough chuckle falling from his lips. "Baby, baby, baby," he laughed, turning me to face him. "Is… is that not what we're doing?" 

My eyes searched his for a good long moment, chasing those brown orbs and every emotion they had to offer. My lips parted as if to speak, but I was unsure of the words that may come if I let them. 

" _Alright_ , y'all," the other man said, standing from his seat next to Michael. Collectively, all of our gazes fell to him-- Trevor's the last to follow. He looked to Michael and Trevor first, a slight scowl upon his features-- one that lacked malice, I noticed. The dude just seemed annoyed. I immediately recognized that he was far closer to my age than the other two men which comforted me, especially in the way that both men seemed to give them their attention when demanded. I watched him with increasing interest as he addressed the two older men. "You two have _got_ to figure this shit out. I'm sick of being in the middle of y'all's arguments and I'm _not_ taking sides. And I sure as hell ain't about to let you drag _another_ person into this decade-old drama."

Frowning, I glanced at Trevor, who seemed to be dealing well with the confrontation… for the most part. He sat with his eyes on his lap, snarling and avoiding contact with me now on the sofa. I wanted to giggle at the immaturity of it all, but chose to keep my amusement to myself as the young man turned to me. "You," he started. " _You_ need to talk to your boyfriend over there who's just volunteered you as an accomplice--,"

"Bullshit, Franklin!" Trevor suddenly burst, his hands having formed fists in his lap. “She ain’t gonna be an _accomplice_ to anything! All we’re doing is checkin’ the place out, and then maybe possibly putting a miserable man out of said misery _if_ he’s even there in the first place! We should be in and out!”

 

“Putting a man out of his _what_?” I stuttered, suddenly turning to Trevor with fearful eyes. _No. No, no, no, no… this isn’t happening._

“Fuckin’ really, T? You didn’t tell her _anything_ , did you?” Michael accused, provoking a frustrated growl from Trevor and a groan from Franklin. 

“I have to work tomorrow,”I muttered to no one in particular; it didn’t seem like anyone had heard me, anyway. 

“C’mon, y’all, _please_ \--,” The young man started, almost immediately cut off by the other two, arguing like a couple of hotheaded teenagers. 

“Hold it, Frank,” Michael interjected, holding his palm up. “I just gotta know, T, what the _fuck_ was goin’ through your head when you planned this? We gotta move on this _tomorrow_ \--,”

“I know that, you lazy fuck,” Trevor snarled in response, leaning forward in his seat, nearly taking the cushion with him. “Don’t forget it was _your_ fuckin’ recommendation that bailed on us in the first place!”

“Work,” I repeated to myself, closing my eyes to try and block out the rest of the room. My trailer had never been so full, so loud that the neighbors could probably pick up on the shouting and bickering amongst the two men; with that, I nearly laughed out loud at the irony. _Trevor’s trailer is the quiet one tonight._

“--fuck you! You never take this shit seriously, it’s always your fuckin’ mistakes I’m havin’ to clean up and I’m getting too goddamn old--,”

“ _Don’t_ get me started on mistakes, my friend,” Trevor chuckled dangerously, his ass close to slipping from the furniture altogether with the way he’d apparently managed to nudge himself to the very edge in frustrated movements. “I believe it was _you_ that stirred up this shitstorm in the first place, you fat fuck--,” 

I stood abruptly, yet no one seemed to notice immediately. Franklin had already collapsed back onto the sofa in apparent defeat as Trevor and Michael went at it. I didn’t spare any of them a glance as I sighed and made my way to the door of my own trailer in an attempt to escape it. _I miss the goddamn quiet._

I barely registered Trevor calling my name as the screen door slammed behind me and I started my descent down the wooden steps leading into the yard. At the very bottom, I sat. I balanced my elbows on my thighs and my head in my hands as the voices in the house decreased in volume, increased in volume, and then stopped altogether-- giving way to the sound of the screen door opening and closing. 

Only one pair of footsteps could be made out behind me, but they weren’t Trevor’s; they were too cool, calm, and _expensive_ to be his haphazard boots that seemed capable of nothing but stomping everywhere. 

The ‘hey’ that followed sent chills down my spine for some unknown reason. _Thief. Criminal._

_Oh, honey, they’re all thieves and criminals. What are you doing?_

There was a pressure on the wide expanse of step beside me, alerting me that my visitor had taken a seat next to me. I sighed. 

“I’m… Sorry about Trevor, he can be a little--,”

“I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. There’s really no need for apologies.” I sighed again, louder this time, but just as exasperated. 

Michael seemed to struggle with his next words, the sound of a shuffle and the flick of a lighter accompanying the silence. I had yet to look up, but the dropping ash of his cigarette by my feet clued me in on his chosen activity. “Misty, I… There’s still time to run, you know?”

I let my hands drop to my lap, focusing on a coyote wandering the desert hills in the distance. “Yep.”

“So, why don’t you? Are you?”

I shook my head, not even registering the action until I had stopped. “I’ve spent way too much of my life running,” I shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve ever felt compelled to… Be involved, I guess. Follow through with something? I don’t... I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well this _thing_ might include signin’ your death certificate, Miss. Be careful.”

I turned to him finally, laughing. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but didn’t quite break through. “Don’t start calling me shit like you know me.”

“Well, I gotta call you somethin’. And if we’re doin’ business together, it ain’t gonna be your actual name. We usually do initials, but M is sorta my thing.” He explained, finally cracking a smirk at the end of the statement. 

I chuckled, letting some of the stress of the night roll off of my shoulders. “Touche, I guess. Don’t ‘Miss’ seem a little close to the real thing, though?”

“Think formalities. It works for me. And I’ve been doin’ this shit for years.”

“How long?” I questioned, mostly in jest. 

“Too fuckin’ long.” 

I laughed again, grateful that I no longer felt fear in the presence of Michael. Instead, there was a shocking amount of comfort in his company. It was nothing more than friendly, of course, but I felt oddly calmed by his kind words and level-headedness. It was odd and almost the opposite of what I expected of him, from Trevor’s descriptions. 

“Trevor tells me you’re quite the professional,” I said, staring straight ahead toward the Alamo Sea. If I focused hard enough, I could almost pretend I could actually hear waves rather than Trevor’s muffled banter coming from within my trailer walls.

Michael looked intrigued, taking a long drag from his cigarette before responding. “And what did he tell ya?”

I bit the inside of my cheek before replying, taking a moment to consider. “Enough.”

Silence followed the statement, but a comfortable one. Michael’s presence was surprisingly comfortable in the moment, in a way I hadn’t experienced in a while. There was an adjective for the way I felt, I was sure of it, but it wasn’t one I could immediately place. At this point, I had already resigned myself to the fact that Trevor hadn’t been _completely_ honest about his old running buddy. Something in my head continued to nag, however, with an insatiable lust for the honest truth. 

Maybe we’d get it eventually. 

“Does he do that a lot?” I asked, meeting Michael’s gaze directly for the first time since that night at the liquor store. “Lose his temper like that?”

The man simply blinked at me, staring incredulously for a moment. “You ain’t known him for very long, huh?”

I furrowed my brows. “Well, not exactly, but--,” 

He took another long drag from his cigarette before interrupting me. “You the girl whose trailer he just bought?”

My eyes widened. “He _what_?!”

With a drawn-out laugh and a shake of his head, Michael laid a supportive hand on my arm. I fought the urge to pull away, actually appreciating the gesture on some level. There was no malice nor annoyance, simply an unspoken understanding of an enigma of a man. The glint of understanding in his eye gave me hope for the future, at least on a level that meant I was no longer alone in my trials and tribulations regarding Trevor. 

And I had a feeling that I'd need all the help I could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this long overdue addition, and please comment if you enjoyed!!


End file.
